Picking Up the Pieces
by WriterandDaydreamer4218
Summary: SPOILERS for CW! After everything that's happened, the Avengers are anything but a team-and it seems like recovery efforts will be slow in coming. As Tony tries to come to terms with his parents' deaths, Steve leads what remains of his team into hiding, and Vision and Wanda learn to deal with their distractions, the team is faced with a question: can the family ever be fixed?
1. Chapter 1

**Hello :) As you can tell, I've finally gotten back to writing Avengers fanfictions-mostly because** ** _Captain America: Civil War_** **just came out and gave me plenty of new material to draw from!**

 **So, I've been working on this for probably the last five or six hours because I thought I knew what I was going to do for this story (seriously, I wrote a 5,000 word chapter and everything!) before realizing that I wanted it to go an entirely different route so I had to rewrite everything. I'm not really sure where this came from, just another random plot bunny. I'm not exactly sure how long it's going to be, but this is going to be a fic focused on what happens to the Avengers after the Civil War and how they try to rebuild. There's a lot of Scarlet Vision though, because I ship it a lot-but other characters will be featured as well.**

 **Disclaimer: Marvel owns the Avengers. I don't. Spoilers for Civil War. Of course.**

 **Enjoy!**

" _What are you doing?"_

 _Wanda looked up, startled, from her perch on her bed where she'd spent the last thirty minutes bent over a book on chord progressions Clint had given her at the same time he'd given her the guitar._ "Hopefully it'll give you something to do with your hands that doesn't involve magic." _he'd said, almost as if he'd known how much she would take to it immediately. And it had worked; she spent hours bent over the instrument every day, learning first basic notes and then simple chords. She still wasn't very good, but she'd just recently learned how to play the_ Star Wars _main theme-everyone on the New Avengers team absolutely adored_ Star Wars _._

 _Vision had phased through the wall again and now stood in the center of the room watching her curiously. His head was cocked slightly, like a curious puppy that had found a new scent. She sighed. "Vizh, please use the door next time." One of these days he was going to give her a heart attack from popping in and out so quickly._

" _My apologies." he replied, though she got the very distinct feeling he wasn't really sorry about it at all. "I didn't know you were practicing." His eyes played over where her fingers carefully held the guitar's neck, pressing down on the right strings while her other hand strummed across the sound hole to produce a C chord._

" _I'm working on a new scale." she replied, pointing it out to him on the page. "It's quite complicated."_

" _May I hear what you have so far?"_

" _It's not very good-"_

" _That's all right. I'm sure I won't be able to tell the difference." She resisted the temptation to roll her eyes; Vision meant well, but at times he could be even more stubborn than Tony Stark himself. He indicated an empty space on the bed next to her. "Do you mind if I sit?"_

" _If you must-but you'll need to be quiet because I'm trying to concentrate." He obliged, watching as she carefully but deliberately played a C, D, E, F, G, A, and B slowly and carefully before she came back to C again._

" _It sounds beautiful." Vision said, forgetting his vow of silence after approximately two minutes._

" _Thank you-but it's just chords. Anyone can learn how to do it." She tried to ignore the fact that a warm blush was starting to creep up the back of her neck, grateful that Vision was in a position where he wouldn't be able to see it._

" _I'm sure I couldn't."_

 _She saw her chance and ran with it. "Yes you could. In fact, I'll teach you right now. Here." She passed him the guitar and he held it like it was a small child he worried he was going to drop-probably because she'd made it abundantly clear to everyone on the team that the guitar was hers and hers alone and anyone who broke it or even touched it without her consent would have hell to pay._

" _Miss Maximoff, I'm not sure this is such a good idea-"_

" _Of course it is. I'm right here; I'll make sure you don't do anything wrong. And please, call me Wanda." She gently guided his hands so he was holding it the correct way and handed him an extra pick. 'We'll start with some easy notes first...Vizh, you don't need to grip onto the guitar like your life depends on it."  
_ " _I'm sorry." He loosened his grasp, but only slightly._

" _That's better. We'll start with a C…" Slowly and deliberately, she showed him how to hold the correct string down with one hand and strum with the other. It took him a few minutes to get the hang of it, but he slowly gained confidence the more he did it-and the longer he held the guitar without it breaking. "Very good, Vizh. Now let's try moving on to a D…" They repeated the process over and over for every single note, until Vision could play the C scale forwards and backwards with only a little bit of help. Wanda tried not to notice their proximity; if anyone else on the team happened to walk in, they'd very quickly get the wrong idea. "That's excellent. Good work."_

 _He almost sheepishly handed the instrument back to her. "That was...interesting, but I believe I will leave the guitar playing to you from now on."_

" _If you'd like to learn...I could give you lessons. I'm not very good myself, but-"_

 _He shook his head. "I wouldn't want to be of any inconvenience. Besides, I like listening to you play things."_

 _Now she was sure the blush extended all the way to her face. "Clint is better."_

" _I don't think that's true-but perhaps if you played a song for me I could judge you more fairly."_

 _She rolled her eyes. "I don't typically perform songs for people."_

" _It doesn't need to be long." He looked so earnest that she didn't know how she could refuse._

 _Reluctantly, she sighed and pulled out the folder of sheet music she'd either downloaded off the Internet or bought at the music store in Syracuse and began riffling through the pages for something she could play nearly by heart. Eventually she narrowed it down to two songs: a Dashboard Confessional she really enjoyed and her beloved_ Star Wars _-the hardest piece she'd mastered to date. And then she saw the piece of paper stuck to the back of it, for a song she'd learned so long ago she'd nearly forgotten about it. "What about this one?" she asked, grabbing the offending sheet and looking it over carefully. The words_ Sokovian Lullaby _stared up at her from the top of the page; the same song her mother had sang to her and Pietro when they were both children and still got afraid of the dark. Vision nodded appreciatively, she took a minute to steady herself, and she began._

 _The song itself wasn't long or complicated but she played it with as much emotion as she could, trying to inject it with all the tenderness and gentleness her mother's voice had been filled with every time she sang it. She tried to pretend she really_ was _back home, cuddled underneath her white duvet with her mother in the rocking chair next to her and Pietro sound asleep in the bed on the other side of the room; by the time she finished, she had tears in her eyes._

" _That is a lovely song." Vision said, handing her one of the many handkerchiefs he seemed to keep inside the pockets of his vest. "You play it very well."_

" _Thank you." she replied. "It's nothing, really; it just reminds me of home. I play it how my mother used to sing it."_

" _She sounds like a very good woman then."_

" _She really was."_ The very best.

 _Vision looked out the window, over the numerous fields and meadows that framed the New Avengers facility and up at the blue sky beyond. "I don't have a mother. I don't believe I know how it feels to be loved in that manner."_

" _It's not something that is easy to explain. The love of a parent...That kind of love is a pure, selfless kind of love where you know you will always be loved, no matter what mistakes you make. Once you've had it and you don't have it anymore, you definitely feel its absence." It had been a while since she'd thought about her parents, though she still missed them-even though it had been over a decade since their deaths._

 _He nodded. "I am sorry if this is hard for you to talk about. I should not have brought it up."_

" _It's not your fault. You don't need to blame yourself." She glanced at the clock; they'd been at it for almost an hour and a half. "We should take a break. The others are going to wonder where we are." With the utmost care she put the guitar away in its usual spot, tucking the music back under her mattress._

 _She was almost out the door when Vision spoke again. "Thank you for the lesson, Wanda. I know I cannot bring back your parents or your brother...but I do know that there are people at this base who care about you. You aren't as alone as you feel."_

 _She had to smile at that. "I know, Vizh. I'm getting there." With that she headed to the stairwell, humming the_ Sokovian Lullaby _with every step she took._

~A~

How had he let this happen?

That was all Vision could think about, as he stood in the center of the Raft's main processing center and watched Clint, Scott, Sam, and Wanda be formally arrested as criminals. How had he let things get this far? Why hadn't he done more? And then there was Colonel Rhodes, who lay practically on death's door-and it was his fault. Taking the shot had been his job, and he'd made a mistake. He'd made a mistake and now his entire world was crumbling down around him.

"Keep your hands where I can see them!" one of the guards yelled at Wanda, levelling a loaded rifle straight at her head. Vision was seized with the powerful, almost uncontrolled urge to smash his head into a wall and burn the ashes, pick her up, and carry her as far away from here and the rest of the Avengers as he possibly could. They could be together, they could do everything they could to live normal lives...but the fact remained that that was impossible. They'd both chosen sides and he had to stay on that side. He had to stand firm; if she chose to disagree with his side then so be it. They were enemies.

And yet he still found himself nearly phasing through the glass wall in front of him as she was forced into a straitjacket, an electric shock collar placed around her neck to keep her from acting out-like she would even consider doing something like that with her friends in such close proximity-as though she were a violent animal they had to restrain. If only they could see her the way he did, see how vulnerable she was underneath all of her strength, see her kindness. and the way she blamed herself constantly. No matter how they felt about her, it didn't in the slightest compare to how she felt about herself. She thought she was a _monster;_ it was all they saw her as. Was he the only one who knew the truth, that she was anything but a killer?

Natasha placed a hand on his shoulder to hold him back. "Not the time." she replied quietly. Her voice was shaking with silent rage as well; he followed her line of sight to where Clint was being forced into a cell. "Not here."

"What they're doing-"

"I know, but making a scene here isn't going to do anything to help your case. It'll just get you thrown in the cell next to her."

"Natasha-"

"I know. Believe me, I know." She watched through the glass with an impassive expression as the others were pushed into cells-even Scott Lang, who wasn't even an Avenger to begin with.

"Why is Mr. Stark not trying to get them out?"

She sighed. "I don't think he cares at the moment-not with Rhodey coming out of surgery in a little while and Cap and Bucky still at large. The prisoners are an afterthought."

"This isn't right."

She shrugged. "They chose to break the law. When you break the law, there are consequences. I can't pretend I like this any more than you do-"

"But this is too harsh. A prison like this is meant to be for top security prisoners, accused of the harshest counts of murder-"

"Isn't that exactly what they're accused of?" She turned to look at him almost curiously. "Why'd you miss that shot?"

He closed his eyes, trying to clear his head. He hadn't meant to, of course not; all he'd wanted to do were short out Falcon's engines, slow him down so Stark could apprehend him. But Wanda had been injured and that had been the most important thing in the world; he'd absolutely had to make sure she was all right. " _I'm sorry."_ he'd said, hoping she knew that he meant more than just Rhodey's attack; that he had tried to control her and had taken his role of protector too far; had let his feeling for her blind him to what she wanted up to the point when she'd had no choice but to attack him.

" _I'm sorry too."_ she'd replied; he hoped that meant they weren't enemies anymore. Maybe they could be friends again.

Of course, that was going to be more complicated now that she was stuck in a high security prison in the middle of the ocean.

"I...got distracted." he said quietly.

"By Maximoff?" She nodded to the girl who was now being forced into a cell of her own-but it was the blankness in her eyes that made him quiver with rage; the expression that said she clearly thought she deserved this, that this was all her fault. That maybe she should have been imprisoned all along and the guards were just doing her a favor.

It was no good lying to Natasha; she knew when you weren't telling the truth even before you realized it yourself. "Yes. She was injured and I went to help her. I was not as alert as I should have been and for that I apologize."

She turned back to the window, something new glimmering in her eye-though for the life of him Vision couldn't tell what it meant. "You love her, don't you?"

The strange word gave him pause. _Love?_ What did love mean? How could he, an android, be in love-especially with a human being? "I...I care for her deeply. But as for love...I don't know. I don't believe I have the capacity for that emotion."

"Why not? You can feel remorse, regret, and happiness-why wouldn't you be able to feel love too?"

"I don't know." Perhaps it was simply that he wished not to feel love; everything he'd heard about it made it seem like a waste of time and more trouble than it was worth. But at the same time, he couldn't dismiss the fact that whenever he saw Wanda his heart seemed to beat differently than it did with anyone else. She made him act different too-more nervous to say the wrong thing, more inclined to do what would make her happy.

"It sucks, doesn't it? That she's a prisoner of the government, I mean?"

He watched as her cell door shut behind her with a bang of finality, locking her into a prison where he could never hope to get her out. "Yes, Natasha. It really is quite terrible."

~A~

He campaigned for a day and a half before he was finally allowed to see her. At first, the government was not at all happy about it but he insisted-and after a while he figured they just got tired of his lobbying. And so he was led into a secure room, with cameras on them at all times and two armed guards at the doors, where he could sit at a table across from Wanda and talk to her for the first time since the battle in Leipzig.

She looked much the worse for wear; although she wasn't wearing the straitjacket her hands were cuffed and her collar was still intact; he could see abrasions on her shoulders through her jumpsuit where the jacket had been too tight. Even at a glance he could tell that she'd lost weight, and her eyes were bloodshot as though she hadn't slept in days. She looked hopeless, as though she was just waiting for someone to decide that they'd had enough of her, put a gun to her head, and pull the trigger. "Vizh…" Her voice trailed off and lapsed into a coughing fit, while Vision gestured for one of the guards to get her some water. Mercifully, he complied.

He wanted to reach across the table and take her hand but he figured that wouldn't go over well with their escorts and the last thing he wanted to do was to make any of the guards angry. "How are you, Wanda? Do they treat you well?"

"Not as badly as they could." she replied once she'd taken a sip of water. "The others get angrier about the jacket than I do-and it doesn't really hurt that much." She was lying. "How is Rhodey?"

"He's...paralyzed, but he'll live. It was touch and go for a while-but he's going to be okay."

"He just won't be able to be an Avenger."

"I'm not saying that. Mr. Stark is working on some experimental prototypes designed to make the healing process easier for him."

"That's wonderful. And what about Steve and Bucky?"

He couldn't help looking away. "They haven't been seen since Leipzig. Do you have any idea where they may have gone?" She wouldn't meet his eyes so he didn't repeat his question. "Very well then. How are the others doing?"

"Bored. Upset. They hate being here. Then again, I guess this is what we signed up for when we sided with Steve."

"Do you regret it?"

She contemplated that for a moment before shaking her head resolutely. "I suppose sooner or later I knew it would all come down this path. You and Tony sided with the government; how are six rebels supposed to compete with that? But Bucky is innocent-and I knew this would happen, regardless of whether or not I signed the Accords. And who knows? Maybe they're right. Maybe I _am_ dangerous. Maybe I deserve to be here."

"Don't say that. This is Steve's fault, not yours."

"Is it his fault if it was my choice to follow him?" She sighed. "It's nice in a way, to know that I can't hurt anybody. The world is safe from me, and perhaps that's a good thing-I do at least as much harm as I do good."

"Wanda-"

She was just getting started. "What happened in Lagos, all those people that died...their blood is on my hands. I wasn't strong enough. I didn't think fast enough. I caused their deaths. I _am_ a murderer, Vizh-"

"If you hadn't done what you did, the bomb would have exploded on the ground. Steve would have been killed and dozens on the ground would have been seriously injured. Everyone makes mistakes-but you did the very best you could. Wanda. What happened in Lagos was an accident. You're not a killer. You made a mistake, for the right reasons. That's no reason to think that you deserve to be treated like an out of control animal."

"I can't control my powers."

"You're getting much better at it. You're just like me; we both have powers and we're both not sure exactly what we can do with them. We need to test and experiment, to find our own limitations...step by step. And we _will_ accomplish this. We will find out what the Mind Stone is capable of. And until that day...we'll just do the best we can." It was all they _could_ do, in any case.

Just then, one of the guards held up one hand. _Five minutes left._ Wanda bit her lip. "I don't know exactly how you convinced them to let you talk to me but however you did it...I'm grateful. It's good to know that we're not alone. And...I'm very sorry I controlled the stone, back at the base."

He flinched. He'd never really forgotten how it had felt to not be in control of his own body, to go crashing through floor after floor because his density was altering itself without his knowledge or consent. He'd never forget that helpless feeling he'd resolved he would never have again. But he could understand why she'd done it at least; and he knew he was not blameless. "You had a reason to do it. It was your duty to stand up for what you believed in-and you performed admirably. There is nothing to apologize for, Wanda. I just want to know if you can ever see me the same way again...if we can ever be friends again, when this has all blown over."

She reached out and grabbed his hand, grasping it tightly like a landline. "Of course. Someday, Vizh. Someday soon."

That was all he could ask for. Glancing back at the guards, he lowered his voice-determined to make their last couple of minutes together count. "Do not lose hope, Wanda." He began to hum _Sokovian Lullaby_ under his breath, waiting for her reaction. At first she looked stricken and confused-but then, ever so slowly, the shadow of a smile crossed over her features like a sunbeam peering through a raincloud. "I will always be with you, no matter what."

"Time's up." the guard said, his partner stepping forward to pull Wanda roughly to her feet and lead her away while Vision was left to show himself out. He didn't mind though; he took that one bit of smile as a personal victory, that he had done something right.

~A~

The straitjacket was digging into her back again. Wanda shifted her position slightly on the hard metal cot she was supposed to call a bed and tried to loosen it slightly-but of course, it wouldn't budge. She let out a breath in a soft huff, hoping that would ease the pain.

It was Day Four, by her count. Day Four, and they had still had no word on how long they would be here. Perhaps for another few hours, perhaps forever. No one would tell her anything. No one would let her talk between cells. She was trapped in her own little prison, stranded in her own little world-and she was completely alone.

Well, not alone exactly. Not when she could still wonder if Vision was even now trying to make another attempt to communicate with her.

Suddenly, a rustle of movement outside caught her eye-and as she watched disbelievingly, someone very familiar stepped out of the elevator and surveyed them all critically. "Well, aren't you all a sight for sore eyes?" the man joked, the man who looked like Steve Rogers but couldn't possibly be him because Steve had been missing for days.

Everyone else in their cell block was on their feet, eyes sparkling with excitement but apprehension. Was anyone listening? Were they going to escape?

Steve strode over to Sam's cell first, slid a key card through a slot in the door, and then shook his hand as Sam walked out. "I didn't think you were coming back!" Sam grinned as they moved on to Clint and then to Scott.

Steve grinned. "I'd never abandon my team. Can everyone stand? We only have seven minutes to get out of here before they realize what happened to us."

The door to her cell clicked open and Clint walked in, holding a knife Steve had tossed him. "Hold still. I'm going to do this as carefully as I can." Taking a seat next to her on the bed he cut through her straitjacket as quickly yet carefully as he possibly could, breathing a sigh of relief as it fell to the ground at their feet with a neat slice down the middle. "You okay, kid?"

She couldn't help grinning as she got to her feet, legs shaking for a few seconds from lack of use before she finally got them to cooperate. "Never better."

They joined the others outside, where Steve was leading them towards another door in the wall that Wanda hadn't seen before. He moved with confidence; obviously, he knew exactly what he was doing. "I'm guessing you have a plan?" Sam asked. "And that's why this place isn't full of alarms yet?"

"Yup." Steve replied. "Everything's going to be taken care of-I'm going to get you out of here. And yes, there's someone on the inside scrambling the Raft's cameras right now so we can sneak out of here undetected."

"Who'd you hire?"

He just smiled as they headed up a steep metal staircase that angled up and up and up towards what Wanda could only assume was the top of the building where their getaway vehicle would hopefully be waiting. "Someone you know. Wanda, he wanted me to give you a message."

"What kind of message?" she asked, as they trooped up the stairs and emerged onto the tarmac-where they headed towards a sleek black helicopter parked at the edge of the roof.

It was a stormy day; she almost didn't hear him over the pounding of the waves and the way the rain seemed to lash down at her almost horizontally-their last trial as they all piled into the helicopter and Steve got it airborne in a matter of seconds. "Maybe you can make more sense of it than I can. He said to tell you to remember the _Sokovian Lullaby."_

With that they gained altitude, letting the prison fade into the distance until it was just a tiny black dot in the middle of a slate grey sea.

 **A couple of 'missing scenes' for you there. The next chapters will take place post movie.**

 **Review, follow, and favorite! Thanks for reading!**


	2. Safe House

**Welcome back for chapter 2! I just want to say thank you for the amazing amount of attention this story has been getting recently. I'm so glad everyone enjoys it :)**

 **Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

 **Enjoy!**

The flight back to the mainland was nerve wracking at best; rain pelted the helicopter from all angles and there were a few times Wanda worried a stray gust of wind was going to knock them right out of the sky. Scott and Sam pelted Steve with questions-mostly wanting to know exactly where Bucky was and where they were planning to go now that they were all wanted criminals. Steve responded with vague one word answers, keeping his eyes on the water and an almost sly smile on his face; somehow, Wanda didn't think he minded keeping them wondering. All he would say was that he had taken care of everything and they would be perfectly safe.

For a while she was happy with the change in plans; she no longer had to worry about one of her captors using the shock collar on her if they felt she was stepping out of line and she could look out at the roiling ocean (and later the crowded streets of downtown Washington on a sunny Sunday afternoon in the middle of May) instead of a sterile concrete wall. But all too soon the doubts became crawling back, gnawing at her brain like a parasite-maybe it was for the best that she stay imprisoned, unable to use her powers. It kept people safe; it kept her from hurting anybody accidentally...like what had happened in Lagos…She dug her fingers into the palms of her hands so hard she drew blood, involuntarily gasping. Clint glanced over at her in concern but she pretended to occupy herself looking out the window and trying not to think at all.

"Did you get a halfway decent getaway car this time?" Sam asked as they landed on the tarmac in a nearly deserted airfield a few miles outside Washington. Steve handed out hoodies and they all clambered outside into the sunshine; it was more than disconcerting after the harsh florescent lighting of the Raft, but no one gave the five fugitives a second look as they crossed the airfield and climbed into a waiting car idling on the shoulder of the road.

Steve rolled his eyes as he climbed in the passenger's seat of a slightly beat up KIA that looked like every other car on the road. "I don't know. You tell me. And you're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

"Nope." Sam muttered as he took his seat in the middle row-glaring daggers at the back of Bucky's head, who was sitting in the front seat and seemed extremely proud of himself.

"Can we turn on some music?" Scott added. "That always helps me relax after I've almost died inside of a helicopter."

"Not the Mexican stuff." Clint muttered, and Wanda silently agreed. They'd let Scott listen to his music for nearly the entire drive from the airport in Germany-and that had not been a good decision. In fact, it had taken them both all the self control they had not to murder him after the forty fifth song full of sexual innuendos they couldn't understand.

"Aww. Fine. Well, what do you guys like to listen to then? Or do you want me to guess? Steve, I'm getting a classical/big band vibe from you; same with you, Winter Soldier, maybe with a little hint of classic rock thrown in there-"

"It's Bucky." said Winter Soldier responded, looking out the window expressionlessly.

"-And for Clint...obviously hard rock. Maybe a little bit of classic, but definitely hard rock. Sam...I'm going to have to go with bluegrass." Sam obviously took offense at that but Scott kept talking before he could cut him off. "Wanda, you're difficult to place also...but given the fact that you kind of give off that angsty teenager vibe sometimes, I think I'll go with rock-whatever kind you can find to listen to-with just a touch of emo stuff. I mean, I've noticed that you like to wear black all of the time-"

His incessant chatter was giving her a killer headache. "Are you physically incapable of being quiet for just five minutes?"

"Sorry. Hey, come to think of it that's exactly what my ex wife said a couple of weeks before she sent for divorce papers."

"So, where're we going Steve?" Clint interrupted.

"A safe house." Steve replied vaguely. "Make yourselves comfortable-it's going to be a long drive." He merged expertly into traffic and they hit the road, angling out of town and up towards New York State.

At first the car was filled with excited chatter as everyone got over their initial excitement at being out of jail-and even on the run to a certain extent. Scott was convinced they should travel internationally, especially to Europe, while Bucky would be just fine with hiding out in a safe house containing a television set and a very large stack of books for the rest of his life. However, as the minutes began to pass and the concept of being free became less and less foreign, conversation started to taper off. People spent more time looking out the window than engaging in conversation and then went from looking out the window to trying to catch up on all the sleep they'd missed while in the Raft.

Her brain kept on working and she couldn't shut it off; replaying Lagos over and over in her head. She could have done so many things differently, worked so much faster to save those people...despite what Steve said, she knew it was her fault. She should have contained that explosion-and then they wouldn't be here right now and none of this would have happened. They'd still be a team, not factions.

Clint had to say her name twice before she finally heard him. "Are you all right?" he asked quietly, looking at the little cuts on her palms that were still red with dried blood.

"I'm fine." she replied. It was an easy lie, one she'd grown accustomed to using a lot over the past year-especially in the first few months, when her grief for her brother was so great that she barely found the energy to get out of bed in the mornings.

"It doesn't look like it."

She sighed. It was impossible to lie to either Clint or Natasha. "Fine. I'm...working on it, then."

"When was the last time you got some decent sleep?"

"A few days ago. It's hard to sleep in a straitjacket." In actuality, she hadn't gotten good sleep in two and a half weeks-ever since Lagos.

"Try to get some sleep. We've still got a few hours to go before we get there." He noticed the way she quickly glanced around the car, as if he could guess that she was worried that if she did fall asleep she might wake up back in her cell. "It's going to be okay. You're safe here-well, as safe as you can be when you're on the run."

She nodded and shifted so she was looking out the window. They'd left Washington DC far behind them and were now driving through Maryland, bound for the New York border and passing small villages and acres of empty farmland and forest alike. It was a peaceful view-and very calming, when coupled with the lull of the car and the soft hum of the air conditioning.

Even so it took her a long time to drop into a rather restless sleep, trying to be secure in the knowledge that her team would still be there when she woke up.

~A~

"I'm worried about her." Clint nodded at Wanda, who had finally managed to fall asleep.

Steve sighed, glancing up at the rear view mirror while keeping one eye on the road. "Yeah. Me too."

"She's been in a maximum security prison cell for the past four days-not to mention the world still blames her for what happens in Lagos...the last thing she needs is to worry about being caught by the government again. They'll only see her as more dangerous than she already is...and I don't even want to think about what they'd do to her to remedy that in the interests of 'public safety'." He sighed, drumming his fingers on the windowpane. "I'm starting to think it might have been a bad call to rescue her from the compound. I mean sure,she was confined there...but she had Vision to keep her company and she seemed fairly happy. She was hesitant to go-but I'm the one who pushed her."

"She made her choice. Yes, I agree that it wasn't fair but...we couldn't have left her there. She's a member of the team, Clint. If we're gearing up for a fight, of course she wants to be a part of it. She's an adult-I think sometimes we forget that. You gave her a choice and she made her decision, just like we all did when we decided not to sign the Accords. But I agree; she has to learn how to control her abilities-for her own sake, just as much as for others. Any good ideas?"

"I'll look something up in the yellow pages." Clint replied sarcastically.

They lapsed into an uneasy silence as the miles slipped by, the only ones still awake besides Bucky-who sat very still and looked directly forward as though he was guarding them.

"I don't think I was able to thank you for what you did." Clint continued after a suitable interval had passed. "For rescuing us. I have to admit, I figured you wouldn't be able to come through. The Raft isn't exactly the easiest place to break into."

Steve grinned. "You didn't think I was just going to abandon the four of you-did you? You're my team-we look out for each other."

"Not that we're much of a team anymore." He thought about Vision, Rhodey, Natasha, and Tony-and how they might never see each other again.

"Yeah, we're a team." Steve countered. "We're not the one we were before, but we're still a team. You can be sure of that." He took a sharp left, taking an exit that would get them off the highway. "And I don't think Wanda is the only one who needs a little bit of time to recuperate."

"Can you tell me where we're going now?"

"When we stop to get something to eat."

"When will that be?"

"Another couple of hours at least."

Clint just rolled his eyes. "I know this is stupid, but did you by any chance happen to pick up our phones?"

"As a matter of fact, I did-but I'm going to need Scott's help making sure they're wiped and untraceable. It might take a few days. Why? Do you need to call your wife?"

"That would probably be best. I need to tell her and the kids that I won't be home for dinner. Cooper and Lila are going to be so disappointed; we were going to go water skiing this weekend. First time this season."

"I'm sorry." It was blatantly obvious that they wouldn't be going water skiing again anytime soon.

"What do you think is going to happen to them when General Ross realizes we escaped?"

Steve sighed. "It's impossible to say. I think they should be fine-but I'd wait a few days to call so they can have as much deniability as possible. After all, they know just as much as everyone else does right about now-they don't need to lie to the law enforcement." He cleared his throat and handed him his cell phone. "But they're probably worried sick...Call Laura. Just for five minutes."

Clint nodded his thanks and typed in the number gratefully. The phone rang once, twice...and then Laura picked up, sounding panicked. "Clinton Francis Barton, where in God's name did you go?"

"It's nice to talk to you too." he replied, trying to keep his tone sounding light. "Did I make the evening news?"

"Yes-you're everywhere. And there's a ten thousand dollar reward for information leading to your arrest."

"Well, that makes me feel special."

She sighed in annoyance and Clint could practically see her standing in the kitchen, balancing the phone between her shoulder and her ear and rolling her eyes while she expertly cooked spaghetti bolognaise. "Can't you ever be serious about anything? The kids and I have been worried sick! Ever since what happened in Leipzig-"

"Laura, I know. I'm really sorry. I would have called if I could, but I only escaped today."

"That would explain why you're calling on Steve's phone. Are you with him?"

He glanced at the front seat, wondering how much he could disclose. "Yes I am. We're all together-and I think we're going to stay that way for quite some time."

"Where are you guys? Is Wanda all right?"

"She's doing as well as you'd expect her to be doing. And...I can't tell you where we are, Laura. When the feds come knocking, it's better for you and the kids if you don't know anything. But I'll stay in touch and call as often as I can."

There was a long moment of silence on the other end of the line. "So you can't come home."

His heart twisted painfully. "I'm going to figure something out-"

"But you're a fugitive, Clint. You can't come back without endangering yourself, can you?"

He sighed. "No. I suppose I can't." There was a long, long silence from the end of the line. "Laura-"

"I thought you said you were going to be retiring. You said you'd had enough of the field. Said you didn't want anything to do with it after what happened in Sokovia."

"Cap called me for help. It's not like I could have said no-he's one of the closest friends I have."

"I suppose that's true." She was very quiet for a few minutes; at first, Clint worried she'd decided to hang up. "What am I supposed to tell the kids?"

"I'm sure they already know."

"They're already so upset with you for cancelling on them, Clint-"

"Laura, you know if I'd had any other choice-"

She sighed again. "I know. I wish I could hate you-in fact, I really want to-but...I can't. Not when you were doing what you feel is the right thing to do. But for God's sake, stay off the radar. The United Nations doesn't need another reason to get mad at you."

He smirked. "I'll try my best not to piss them off. I love you, Laura. Tell the kids I love them too."

"Of course-although I suspect they already know. And we love you too, Clint. Will you be able to call us again?" A note of anxiety entered her voice, as if she was already afraid he'd say no.

"Yeah-it might take a few days to debug my phone, but I'll call as soon as I can. We'll figure this out, Laura. I promise."

"I certainly hope so."

With that she hung up and he silently handed the phone back to Steve. "Thanks for that."

"Anytime. How's she taking the news?"

"She's not happy, obviously-and the kids are going to be devastated. But we'll make it work. I've been gone a lot the past few years anyway; I should have known things weren't going to change." He thought back to what Tony had told him back at the Raft: _You have a wife and kids. Shouldn't you have thought about them?_ And it was true-he should have. They were his family. They meant the world to him. But he also had another family: a completely dysfunctional family of superheroes who needed him just as much as they did. And when Steve had told him that Tony had placed Wanda under house arrest for her own 'safety'...he hadn't been able to turn away. Not when he still owed the remaining Maximoff a debt he could never really pay-it was impossible, considering the fact that her twin had sacrificed himself so he could live.

And look where he was now. Not even an Avenger anymore. In another set of circumstances, he might be laughing at the irony of it all.

Steve's smile faded and he looked back at the road with an inscrutable expression on his face. "I'm sorry. I should never have called you."

Clint smirked. "If you hadn't, I'd never forgive you. Do either of you have a magazine or something? I could really use something to read." Wordlessly, Bucky dug a few old newspapers out of his backpack and handed them back. They were all in German; Clint's German was a little bit rusty, but he managed to get the gist of everything fairly rapidly.

For once, he tried not to think about things-not what was going to happen next or what they had left behind. All that mattered were the words on the page in front of him. Everything else could wait.

~A~

"Kid, wake up."

Wanda jumped awake and practically fell out of the car before she realized where she was and what was going on. The car had finally stopped, parked in the middle of nowhere. The horizon was colored with the inky blues and deep blacks of the oncoming night; illuminated by a neon sign hanging from one rusted nail that read NELSON'S GRILL AND TAVERN: PURVEYOR OF GOOD FOOD AND FINE WINES SINCE 1937. The restaurant itself had obviously seen better days; a rundown wooden building that still managed to retain a little of its old rustic charm. "Where are we?"

"Somewhere in New York. Want to get something to eat?"

Now that she'd finally been able to sleep, all she wanted to do was stay that way for as long as she possibly could. "Not really."

"Sure you do. Prison fare is less than substantial. Come on." Ignoring her weak protests, he waited for her to climb out of the car and handed her a plastic bag that, on closer inspection, was full of clothing. She wanted to ask Steve where he'd had the time to pick it up but she was already too concerned with exactly where they expected her to change. "The woods should be clean." He gestured to the small copse of trees that ringed the restaurant on three sides.

"I'm absolutely not changing in the woods." Scott said, leaning against the car indignantly.

"Then you don't get a burger." Sam replied, already heading off. "I don't think they'll serve you if they see you're an escaped convict." Scott rolled his eyes, but reluctantly took a hesitant few steps in the opposite direction.

Wanda chose yet another direction, walking a little ways into the 'forest' so she could be sure no one could see her from the roadside. It wasn't exactly the most comfortable experience she'd ever had, but it did feel good to be wearing something other than prison scrubs-especially her own clothing. "How'd you get them back, Steve?" she asked curiously as she rejoined the group and they all went inside; various hats and shawls were distributed and they even managed to look somewhat normal as their hostess showed them to a table. In any case, no one recognized them as four ex Avengers and six wanted fugitives.

"I'm getting a hamburger, a milkshake, and an extra side of fries." Scott said without even opening the menu. "And I'm going to eat all of it with no regrets. I haven't really eaten in days."

"All right. Now tell us where we're going." Clint said impatiently, swirling his straw in his water and fixing both Steve and Bucky with a stony look. "I think you've waited long enough."

Steve and Bucky exchanged a glance. "I got in touch with Sharon. She knows an elderly couple that lives up near Niagara Falls who recently left for Florida to retire and enjoy warmer weather. They couldn't take everything with; their house is still on the market and it's readily furnished. I told her we'd be happy to put it to good use for a little while-at least until we can find a more permanent arrangement. It's not like the base or even Avengers Tower-just roughing it in the great outdoors. I hope it's not a problem; I was grasping at straws and trying to figure out the escape plan."

"Sounds fun." Sam said. "Is it like camping?"

"No, it's just...you'll see. We still have a couple more hours to go; we've been doing a lot of zigzagging."

"You know, if we are going camping we'll need to tie up our food at night." Scott added. He probably hadn't even heard a word Steve was saying. "I went camping with my friend Luis one time. We didn't know you were supposed to do that and we almost got chased by a bear-"

"Didn't you just hear me say that we aren't going camping? We'll be in a cabin."

Sam glanced around the restaurant as if to be sure they weren't going to be overheard-though they were the only ones still eating this late at night. "What about our jobs? Are we still Avengers anymore? Are we still going to be saving the world?"

Steve nodded. "If such a time becomes necessary where our efforts are truly necessary to prevent a catastrophic event, we'll go and help out-Accords or not. But until then, the Avengers are off the grid. To the public's eye, it has to look like we've completely disappeared."Just then their waitress returned with their food and they all spent a few minutes getting settled and taking their first bites before he spoke again. "Besides, maybe that's not such a bad thing. We've been so busy being Avengers, we never really learned how to be normal. Maybe we never were."

 _Truer words have never been spoken,_ Wanda thought, nodding in agreement as she took a bite of her salad. Sure, it wasn't the best she'd ever had-the dressing was a little bit runny and some of the leaves were of questionable freshness-but she was free and it was the first meal she'd had in days that didn't come from a metal tray and tasted like ground up silt, so it tasted absolutely delicious.

~A~

It was full on dark when they got out of the restaurant and went to complete the last leg of their journey. Bucky offered to drive so Steve could get some sleep; he played classical music softly as they drove, lulling everyone into a kind of hazy security. Wanda fell asleep almost instantly, her head resting on Clint's shoulder; she hadn't meant to doze off like that but she'd been reading his magazine over his shoulder and another wave of exhaustion had caught her all at once. To his credit, Clint didn't push her off.

For the next few hours she drifted in and out of consciousness. Occasionally she would sort of wake up and look out the window to see them passing acres of dark farmlands or sleepy towns shuttered in the dark of night. The quietly conversed words of whoever happened to be awake would reach her through a veil; often she wouldn't be awake enough to hear what they said, hovering just on the cusp of sleep and awareness until she inevitably drifted off again. Sometimes she dreamed, sometimes she didn't; in her mind's eye she saw Pietro as he had looked when he was still alive, practically vibrating with energy as he laughed with her about something. This was no new occurrence; she'd been seeing him in her dreams ever since his untimely death-but unlike usual, tonight she saw Vision too. Not much, just once or twice she would find herself back in the kitchen before everything went downhill-before she realized she was a prisoner in her own home-standing at the kitchen sink and helping him find the paprika while trying not to laugh.

When she finally became fully awake again the moon had reached its summit, bathing the forest and meadows around them in stark white moonlight. Bucky had turned off the main road onto a gravel path that snapped and crackled beneath the tires. They followed this path for a good five or ten minutes, until a small house emerged out of the darkness that Wanda was sure had come right from a children's story. It was made of dark wood, standing like a sentry in the quiet night; in fact, it looked like something she and Pietro would have read about in one of their old storybooks.

The garage was dim and dark as Bucky parked the car and they all clambered out to take a good look around. It was crowded; Wanda could barely see anything in the dim light slanting through a small window above the carport apart from an old Model T that looked like it was about to fall apart, a couple of bags of golf clubs, a couple practice targets, and a few bow and arrow sets. _They must have been hunters._

Steve rummaged around under a beat up old Welcome mat and pulled out a small yellow key-revealing an even more idyllic home indoors. It looked exactly like an honest to God cabin from an old movie; framed pictures of deer hung on the walls, pine cones adorned the wallpaper, and nearly everything was solid oak furniture. Wanda found herself loving it immediately.

"The bedrooms are upstairs." Steve said as he found a bottle of milk in the fridge and poured everyone generous glasses. "There should be five-someone's going to need to sleep downstairs."

"I've got it." Clint volunteered. "I want to go hunting tomorrow morning anyway; I think it's best if I don't wake anyone up."

Scott yawned, pushing his empty glass aside blearily. "Well, I'm beat. Can we save the walking tour until tomorrow and go upstairs instead? I think I'm about to fall asleep standing up." The clock on the wall said indifferently that it was 2:30 in the morning.

Steve nodded. "I think that's an excellent idea. I'll go out and buy some doughnuts in the morning, along with anything else we need for the next few days. We'll make a list once everyone's up. But I agree-we all need sleep."

Bedrooms were chosen at random. While Steve claimed the bedroom at the end of the hallway and Scott, Clint, and Sam tried to hash out rights to the remaining three, Wanda made a beeline for a small linen closet-which, on closer inspection, revealed a step ladder that led right up to a kind of dusty but no less cozy attic bedroom. Although it was devoid of photographs or anything that could tell her anything at all about who had lived here recently, the floral duvet was soft and warm and the pillows under her head were extremely soft. She let out a soft sigh of contentment as she lay back; the Raft felt like a dim and distant memory.

As she made herself comfortable, too tired to even begin to contemplate the events of the last four hours, her mind wandered to an unexpected source: Vision. She wondered what he was doing at this hour, whether he was wondering where she was. Despite their differences, they'd been friends; in fact, he had been one of the first friends she'd made after Sokovia. Of course, that didn't matter much now; even though he'd come through for her, they were still enemies. He was one of Tony Stark's Avengers; she had no choice but to cut him out of her life entirely because there was simply no reason he could ever be a part of it.

Still, she wondered what would happen if things were different-and she found herself missing him, a little bit. If she closed her eyes she could see him in one of the pullover sweaters he insisted on wearing every single day no matter what the season (because apparently androids' synthetic bodies were equipped with state of the art heating and cooling systems), watching her scramble eggs with his usual expression of open curiosity and healthy fascination-or hear his voice that day in the compound when he explained to her why she couldn't leave: not simply because Tony was ordering it but because he wanted to keep her safe. _I just want the rest of the world to see you as I do._

She shook her head, trying to clear it. She shouldn't be thinking about him; not now, not ever. She was in a different world, had nearly crossed over into a different life. It couldn't possibly last forever, but she could make the most of what time she did have.

 _We've been so busy being Avengers, we never really learned how to be normal. Maybe we never really were._ But maybe things could be different; maybe it wasn't too late.

Maybe she could still learn.

~A~

Vision watched with a practiced detachment as General Ross and a posse of other Raft guards examined the Avengers' empty cells, trying to figure out how they could have escaped or where they could be going. Although he kept his expression neutral, his mind was buzzing; Wanda had gotten out alive. She was safe now, probably miles away with the rest of the team. Perhaps not even sparing him a second though. And yet, that didn't really matter. He didn't really mind. He'd done what he could to protect her-and this time, he'd succeeded.

"Did you know about this?" Tony muttered as they watched someone pick up a straitjacket that had been sawn nearly in half. He didn't seem to care either way; in public he talked about what a relief it was to have the Avengers off of his conscience but he hadn't exactly come running when he'd heard about what had happened.

He shook his head slowly, unwilling to reveal his secret just yet. "No, I did not." It was strange; he'd never thought of keeping secrets before, especially from Tony Stark. But something told him that this was a matter Tony couldn't know about; that he would only make things worse if Vision tried to explain it to him. So, reluctantly, he held his peace.

"Kind of lucky that they all got out like that."

"Well, they _are_ Avengers." he said matter of factly.

Tony looked at the empty cells with eyes that Vision couldn't read, no matter how hard he tried. "Yes, I suppose they are." With that he left to go talk to General Ross, leaving Vision alone. Left to his own devices, Vizh let himself drift back to Wanda and the other members of Captain America's team; wishing them safe travels and a good night wherever they happened to be.

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	3. Just the Essentials

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

 **Enjoy!**

It took Steve a few minutes the next morning to figure out exactly where he was and how he'd gotten there. Sunlight slanted through the green curtains covering his windows, making him check the clock on the bedside table and realize that it was nearly 10:00. He'd overslept-by about four hours. Then again, he supposed he could use the sleep; it had been a very busy last few days.

Bucky was the only other person awake, sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee and trying not to wake Clint-who was still passed out cold in the other room. Steve guessed, probably correctly, that the archer hadn't managed to go hunting. "You're up late."

Steve rolled his eyes. "How long have you been up?"

He shrugged. "Not long. Half an hour, maybe less. Did you sleep well?"

Steve nodded. In fact, he'd had the best sleep he'd gotten in days. "Maybe it's how quiet it is here." It was near silent, except for the omnipresent chorus of morning birdsong; nothing like the busy sounds of Brooklyn, New York-part of the city that never sleeps. He'd never realized how much the city had become his alarm clock-how often he'd woken up to hear the garbage truck rumbling down the street on its way to the dump and kids shouting on their way to school. It felt like he had passed on into another world-one full of tranquility and quiet contemplation. Nothing seemed farther away at the moment than Tony Stark and the fractured Avengers.

Just then, Clint yawned from the other room-followed by a soft thump as he presumably fell off the couch and a flurry of muffled curse words. "Remind me never to do that again." he said as he walked into the kitchen, massaging his lower back. "I felt like I was going to fall off the damn thing all night."

"I'm sorry for your loss." Bucky said, sliding him a chipped ceramic mug that proudly read SYRACUSE FISHING TOURNAMENT 2002: GRAND CHAMPION. "Here, have some coffee."

He just looked at Steve somewhat accusingly. "I thought you said you were getting doughnuts."

"I said I'd get doughnuts when everyone else gets up." Steve replied. "Then we'll go shopping."

"You sure that's a good idea? I don't know if you've forgotten already but we're kind of wanted fugitives."

"Who says we'll all go at once? Wait for everyone else to get up."

Bucky opened a drawer and pulled out a stack of CD cases Steve hadn't noticed in his initial sweep of the house a couple of days before. "Let's see...some Beethoven, Bach, Tchaikovsky, Mozart, and...the Rolling Stones. Any preferences?"

"Your pick."

"Mozart it is." He thumbed the play button and the soft strains of classical music drifted through the house as they took in their new surroundings in the light of day-how the perishables cabinet didn't quite close and the green couch in the front room embroidered with tiny brown pinecones had been worn so thin through years of use the stuffing was starting to show in places. There was a television in the den that everyone was afraid to turn on until Scott could use his hacking expertise to tell them whether or not it could ever be traced. All in all, it seemed like a nice place. That is to say, it would suit their needs just fine.

Steve chanced a look at Bucky over his steaming cup of coffee; the ex Winter Soldier was looking out the window with an almost content look on his face. The stump where his metallic arm had once hung had been cauterized and was now covered by a clean bandage; he was getting along surprisingly well without it. In fact, Steve thought he preferred it; for Bucky, it reminded him of so many memories he was trying so hard to keep buried.

"Your music is making my ears bleed."

That would be Scott.

"Morning to you too, Tic Tac." Clint muttered, brewing another cup of coffee.

"We totally didn't agree that's my cool nickname."

"Yes we did, actually. You were asleep."

"That doesn't count."

"Sure it does." Sam replied from the top of the stairs. "I think it suits you."

Scott sighed in annoyance. "Come on, Sam. You were supposed to be on my side."

"I'm not on a side. I like to pick and choose."

"I really hate you sometimes. Is that coffee?" Clint wordlessly handed him his cup; Scott took one sip and promptly spit it out. "God, what is this stuff? Black?" Clint just rolled his eyes.

"What's going on?" Wanda asked, entering the kitchen looking both groggy and very, very confused.

"Don't worry; you didn't miss much." Scott replied, dumping half a bottle of creamer into his drink. "We're just making coffee. Want some?"

"Sure." Wordlessly, Bucky started another cup.

"Sleep well?" Clint asked as she took the seat next to him.

She nodded. "Very well, considering I've been sleeping on and off for the last eighteen hours or so."

"So what are we getting at the grocery store?" Steve asked, eager to do something productive and pulling out a pad of paper as if making a list. He started with the usual things: milk, apples, watermelon (through Scott's surprisingly vehement request), breakfast cereal, eggs, sandwich bread and sandwich meat, potato chips, hamburgers, sweet potato fries, and ice cream (Sam and Scott disagreed on whether they should get chocolate or peanut butter fudge ripple so Steve said they could get both. After that he started taking requests: animal crackers, peanut butter, whipped cream, frozen toaster waffles, refried beans (for Scott), bagels, orange juice, chocolate milk, chocolate covered coffee beans (surprisingly, for Bucky), and something that sounded vaguely Eastern European that only Wanda could pronounce.

"We also need new clothes." Wanda replied, quite rightly. "I'm getting kind of sick of wearing these."

"And seasons 1-4 of Downton Abbey." Scott had checked out the TV, disconnected a few cables and reconnected a few others, and decided that it was perfectly fine.

"You know, I don't want to be pushy or anything...but I've heard those adult coloring books are really great." Sam added.

"Books in general." Bucky said simply.

 _Okay then._ "How about we all go into town and then we split up to do our shopping? Buck, you and I can take groceries; Clint, you and Wanda have clothing; and Sam, you and Scott have other means of entertainment. Keep it legal, please."

With jobs assigned, everyone seemed more than happy to move out. While Steve distributed various hats and coats meant to keep them out of the public eye for as long as necessary, Scott sat in the backseat of the car and fiddled with Steve's phone, trying to link all of the Avengers' paychecks to offshore accounts so they could be accessed remotely. He said it was an easy job; apparently, it would be done by the time they arrived in town.

And sure enough, once they reached the outskirts of the nearest city he grinned and handed Steve back his phone. "And we're in! Let's get doughnuts!" Steve rolled his eyes but reluctantly turned into the nearest Dunk 'n Doughnuts.

There followed a confusing period of order placing, in which Clint had to explain to Wanda what all the doughnut choices meant and Bucky and Scott both kept changing their orders. By the time Steve had paid and they'd gotten their doughnuts successfully without being noticed or having the cops called on them he was more than relieved. "We're not going to last two days on the run if you guys don't even give it an effort."

"We're giving it an effort," Scott replied, face covered in chocolate frosting. "We just lack your...clinical expertise."

He sighed, taking a second to relax. It was true; they were trying the best they knew how-but it was easy to get frustrated when he felt more and more like their fate rested on his shoulders. He was their captain; they were all in this mess because they'd agreed to help him out-sure, he'd asked them for help but they easily could have said no. Some of them had lost families, others had lost everything they'd ever known; he felt he was obligated to look after their well being, especially after they'd done so much for him. If this didn't work out and they got caught...that would be his fault. If anything happened to them because of their part in the Civil War, that was on him too.

No wonder he'd been told he always tried too hard to balance the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Bucky placed his good hand on his shoulder, gently yet protectively. "We're all in this together, Steve. You don't need to shoulder this burden alone."

He glanced around the mini van, where Scott and Wanda sat in the back seat watching something on the team's one working iPhone, Sam reading the atlas for lack of anything better to do, and Clint looking out the window at the small town-still quiet in the afternoon heat. "I know, Buck-but sometimes it seems like the only thing I know how to do."

~A~

Steve and Bucky managed to be in and out of the grocery store in half an hour. They got distracted a couple of times-Bucky proclaimed mid aisle that he suddenly couldn't live without throwing a couple of two liter bottles of Sprite in the back of the cart and they made spontaneous purchases of frozen pizza and KRAFT mac and cheese as well, but they were in and out reasonably quickly. Two hours before everyone else was due to be done shopping.

"What do you want to do?" Bucky asked, examining a map of the city on Steve's GPS app.

Steve shrugged. "I don't know. Any ideas?"

"There's a movie playing at the theatre I wouldn't mind seeing. It's an hour and a half. We could go see it and still have time to go and pick up the others."

"Sure." He was reluctant to take himself off the clock when everyone else was still out and about, but Bucky probably hadn't had time to go to a movie in ages-and besides, the others would be able to take care of themselves for a couple of hours. Hopefully. "But after that we get right back in the car."

~A~

Clint and Wanda split up as soon as they stepped inside the department store, wordlessly; Wanda would go shop for herself while Clint shopped for everyone else.

"Don't buy too much dark makeup." he added as she walked off. "Steve's credit card isn't unlimited, you know."

She rolled her eyes. "Just the essentials." Knowing her, that made at least two bottles each of foundation, eyeshadow, eyeliner, mascara, and whatever else caught her fancy.

"And try to avoid talking to people if you can. Your accent is a dead giveaway." She nodded and took the escalator up to the next floor; he would have to have Scott give her a crash course in talking American using the television shows Tic Tac was almost certainly going to pick up.

Clint breezed through the clothing aisles with a practiced grace; the grace of someone who'd been on the run before. He knew, for example, to find things that could be washed easily, fit in a suitcase, and blend in with the world around them-mostly neutral colors, jeans, and plain t-shirts. He only picked out a few outfits for everyone; it would be all the easier to transport in case they needed to leave in a hurry.

In fifteen minutes he was ready to go. Wanda was not. He gave her another twenty and when she still wasn't back he decided to go up to the next floor and see what was taking her so long.

He found her immediately, casually browsing a display of black jeans. He chanced a look in her basket, which was overflowing with dresses, skirts, tank tops, and pants that were all black. "Are you sure you're not goth?" _Angsty teenager much?_ No way she was twenty two like she kept saying she was. He'd never seen her birth certificate; he doubted she had either. She could easily be making things up.

She shook her head, taking another pair of jeans and shoving them into the basket. "Black is just my color. It blends in more easily."

"Are you sure you can't get anything a little more...colorful?" She just gave him a withering look and returned to browsing. "Besides, these look like a little more than just essentials."

She looked down almost sheepishly. "I got a little bit carried away."

"You know it's all going to need to fit in a suitcase, right? And not a big one, either-a small one that you can carry."

Reluctantly, she emptied out half of the basket with a small sigh. He noticed the way she spent a little longer than normal eyeing a dress with black lace around the arms and hemline before she put it back; as soon as she turned around to head to the checkout line he surreptitiously slid it inside his own cart, buried under a mound of jeans. She deserved some nice things.

He handled all of the purchases-not only because of his decidedly American accent but of his prowess with American money. Wanda knew what all the coins stood for and how to make exact change-but she was still learning, and she certainly wasn't very fast at it yet. It was easier and more enjoyable for all involved parties if Clint handled the money exchange and she was left to roam the rest of the small strip mall.

He found her waiting outside three doors down, outside a music store, and inwardly sighed. He could see exactly where this was going.

On closer inspection, she was looking at the display window-at a beautiful acoustic guitar made out of a tan wood that had been carefully polished and sanded until it shone. It was an amazing piece of craftsmanship and artistry...but altogether too heavy to be practical for their needs. "Kid…"

"I know." she practically snapped. "I'm just looking."

 _Fair enough._ He let her look for almost ten minutes, until he thought the clerk inside the store would start to get suspicious. "Wanda, we need to get going."

She bit her lip as she turned around and started to walk away; he had to jog to catch up with her. She didn't say anything until she reached the place where they were supposed to meet Steve and Bucky; a little picnic shelter by a state park overshadowed by tall trees. "I'm never going to get to play again." It wasn't a question.

"You know if circumstances had been different I would have bought it for you-"

"If circumstances had been different I'd still have my own." She wouldn't look at him; he couldn't tell whether she was more upset with him, Tony, Steve, or herself.

"We'll find another one."

"Assuming we find a place where it's stable enough for us to think about frivolous things like guitars...Clint, how long are people usually on the run?"

He hesitated for a second before he said "It depends on the person and how long the government decides to keep looking for them."

"So we could be on the run for years?"

He nodded, reluctant to say that it was nearly impossible to stay in hiding forever. Sooner or later, someone screwed up or someone made a mistake. Someone got reckless and the people hunting them found the in they needed to set a trap. Sooner or later, they'd be found. He could only hope for the right people. "I don't know what to tell you."

"But until we aren't wanted fugitives, there's no more guitar." It was more like it was telling herself that, trying to get used to the idea. "It shouldn't matter as much as it does. After all, Pietro and I were on the streets for years before you found us. We never had supercilious things back then. I should be used to this."

 _But you shouldn't be._ Belatedly, he noticed the way her voice had barely trembled when she said her brother's name-progress. Definite progress. _You shouldn't be used to this. You should be used to comfort and warm houses on cold night. You should have a future in front of you-a normal one: a career, a husband, a couple of kids, a mostly meaningless existence in comfort and happiness._

"I suppose it's just harder when you get a taste of a good thing." she continued even more softly, still not looking at him. "Because it never lasts. Not when you're like me." He heard the words even though she didn't say them: _Not when you're a monster._

He wanted to tell her that everything was going to be okay; they'd seen worse than this before, hadn't they? They'd gotten through it then, too. He'd been on the run himself and he was still perfectly fine-but even he knew this was different. Last time he'd been alone-now he had her to look after. Not only her, but the rest of the team too. They'd gone from heroes to vigilantes, loved to reviled, in the span of a couple of days...and he couldn't see an end in sight, other than to keep to the shadows and keep out of sight. "I'm just trying to protect you."

She didn't say anything for a long while, and neither did he.

"You know, I don't regret it-even now." she said after about fifteen minutes of stony silence. A leaf from one of the trees above them detached itself from its branch with a soft click, twirling down to land in her dark hair; he brushed it away almost habitually. "Steve was right. _You_ were right. If I wanted to make amends, I had to do something. And I did. And sure, there were consequences-but there always are. At least this time, I can feel like I was in the right. For the first time, I know I deserve everything that's coming to me...but somehow, that doesn't matter. Not when I believe in what I was doing in the first place."

Just then, Scott and Sam came over from the other side of the mall, their arms weighed down with plastic bags. "They had it!" Scott said, running the last five hundred feet and slamming down a DVD boxed set containing the first five seasons of _Downton Abbey._

"We got a few other things too." Sam said, opening one bag to show a couple dozen DVDs and various boxes of colored pencils.

Clint rolled his eyes. "If we ever have to leave in a hurry, _Downton Abbey_ is the first thing staying."

Scott smirked. "Non believer. Just wait until you watch it."

With that the van pulled back up at the curve, they loaded up the trunk with all of their purchases, and then they headed back to the cabin-labelling the day a great success for all involved.

~A~

The air smelled like freshly baked pizza as Sam pulled out plates and distributed pieces to all of the (ex) Avengers spread out around the den watching Monday night football (except for Wanda, who was listening to music on Steve's headphones and coloring blissfully.

"You know, I can phone one of my buddies back in San Fran," Scott began, his mouth full of pizza, "and I think I can get him to fly out here and wipe our phones tomorrow or Monday at the very latest. His name's Kurt and he's a whiz with computers-even better than I am."

"Is he anything like you?" Sam muttered. Steve agreed; he wasn't sure they needed another Scott around quite so soon.

"No. He's Russian or something and he's really superstitious. If he can't explain it, it was probably Gypsies."

"Sounds like a great guy." Clint muttered, taking a bite of pizza. "Not bad, Cap."

"Thanks." Steve replied. "Wanda? What do you think?" She gave him a halfhearted thumbs up, not looking up from the coloring book.

He and Bucky preferred to eat in the relative solitude of the kitchen, where they could supervise everybody from a safe distance. "I would say we're doing okay so far." Bucky said, taking another piece of pizza. "I mean, it's been about twenty four hours and we haven't been arrested yet."

"Even so, we should lay low for the next few days-in case anyone really _did_ get suspicious." Steve replied. "Clint can go hunting-we can have some fresh venison."

Bucky nodded. "Sounds delicious. I've never had it, but we can give it a try."

He surveyed the members of his team, looking relaxed for the first time in days. "Answer me truthfully: how long do you think we can keep this up?"

"Until someone needs the Avengers." Bucky replied. "It'll be a lot harder to stay in the shadows when we're trying to save somebody. We'll probably need to move. Do you have any other safe houses?"

He shrugged. "I have some people I can call. Nothing concrete."

"We'll figure it out, Steve." _We always have._ Whenever they'd run on hard times in the past-days without enough food, nights that always seemed too dark-they'd found ways to get through it. Sometimes they'd had to rely on their own common sense, ingenuity, and more than a little luck-but they'd always found a way. He had to assume that was the case here too; things would work out. He just needed to keep everyone alive and hidden until they did. "What about Tony?"

Steve winced, unable to stop seeing the look of incredible hurt on his friend's face when he'd told him that he'd known the truth about the car crash that had killed Howard and Maria Stark. Truth be told, he'd never known anything concretely until Zemo had showed them that video-but he'd managed to put the pieces together, from newspaper articles and tattered Hydra file folders yellowed with age...but the look Tony had given him, the look of something broken that could never be prepared, had been enough to make him wish he hadn't kept such a secret to himself. "What about him?"

"Think he'll ever stop hating you?"

"I don't know. I see where he's coming from; I knew Stark had...problems with his family and I should have told him what happened. I just...I didn't want to hurt him when I didn't know anything for certain-all I had was Hydra rumors that were years old-and I didn't want it to change the way he felt about you-or whether or not he'd try to help me find you. If I were in his shoes...I don't know if I'd be able to forgive, much less forget. I lost a friend in Siberia-and everyone else in this house did too. Before Leipzig, I would have thought Tony was our ally-but now I have to wonder. If he saw one of us on the streets, would he let us go-or would he call the government? I can't tell anymore...so I think it's best if we stay off the radar. If he needs us..of course I'd come help him without a second thought. But until then, he's out of the equation." He shook his head, trying to clear it; ultimately, every time he thought about Tony Stark his mind turned into a jumbled mess. "I made a mistake."

"Everyone does, Steve. Even Captain America. You can't be perfect all the time-you know that, right?"

He shrugged. "Sometimes I forget."

"Yeah, you made a mistake. Yeah, you should have told him about what happened. But until a time comes when you can apologize...you have to move on, Steve. Take it from someone who's done things he regrets. You have too many people to look after-and who are looking after you too."

Steve nodded, watching Scott and Sam trade good natured vocal jabs at each other, while Clint looked out the window into the dark night-although Steve could tell he was looking past it, maybe to his family. The family that, thanks to Steve, he wouldn't be able to see for a very long time.

Yes, it was his fault. All of this was his fault. And yet, they'd followed him anyway. They'd chosen his side over Tony's and accepted all of the consequences that came with it. True loyalty like that was hard to find; he was grateful for each and every one of them.

And the next time he saw Tony, he was going to apologize. Maybe it wouldn't do a speck of good, but he had to try. They'd been through so much together (they'd saved the world twice), and he owed him at least that much. More than that, if he was being honest.

But for now, they were going to rest, they were going to recover, and most especially they were going to heal. One day at a time.

 **The next chapter will focus more on the members of Team Iron Man; it should be up in a couple of days.**

 **Review, follow, and favorite! Thanks for reading!**


	4. Left Behind

**Hello,**

 **I'd like to point out and clarify a couple of things, mostly referring to characters. All the characters that were in** ** _Civil War,_** **(that excludes Thor and the Hulk) will be in this story. However, that includes so many characters-so it's going to take a little bit of time to get everyone introduced. Please don't tell me that I've forgotten anybody or say that I should put anyone else in because I** ** _will_** **get around to introducing everybody. It might just take a little bit longer because there are so many characters.**

 **Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.**

 **Enjoy!**

Tony would have remembered the night in perfect clarity even without BARF (one of these days, he was going to get around to changing that acronym). He would have remembered the rush of activity, the way suitcases had been piled in the hallway waiting to be transported to the jet. It would be making two stops before the week was through: once in London and once in Vienna. At least, that was its planned itinerary. No one had accounted for the extra stop in Berlin.

There was Steve, sitting on the window seat and reading a book with practiced concentration. Quieter than usual, the way he had been ever since the text had come saying Peggy had died in her sleep. Sam and Rhodey were seated on the couch, watching football and arguing good naturedly over who was going to win. This wasn't uncommon; they almost always placed bets on who would come out on top-but Tony could sense a deeper underlying tension that told him things still stung from the discussion they'd had about the Sokovia Accords earlier that morning. Natasha stood in the entryway, staring out the front window at the rapidly darkening night impassively. "You know," she said, just the way Tony knew she would, "we should get going if we ever want to get off the ground tonight."

The front door opened and Tony braced himself for the familiar rush of confusion that came when he saw his double for the first time, wearing his new three piece suit he'd been so proud of. "The jet's on the ground; we're good to go whenever you're ready."

Steve stood up slowly, as though he had a heavy weight on his shoulder that was constantly pushing him down. "Let's not keep them waiting. It's going to take time to get adjusted to the time change as it is." He slung his backpack over one arm, grabbed the handle of his suitcase with the other, and was halfway out the door before Tony could call him back.

"Steve?"

"What is it?" the super soldier asked, looking back curiously. Even now, even when he'd had time to process what had happened in Siberia, Tony couldn't help wondering just how many secrets those blue eyes were holding. How much had Steve known, back then, about the night the Starks had been murdered? How many other things had he been hiding-not just from Tony, but from the rest of the team as well.

"Listen, I'm really sorry. About Peggy and...about the Accords. I'm sorry we don't see eye to eye. I'm sorry neither of us can compromise. And I'm sorry about everything that's going to happen next."

Steve nodded. "Me too." With that, he tipped his hat once to Tony and stepped outside into the night. The scene froze around him as Tony pressed another button, shifting the scene to the den downstairs. There were Vision and Wanda; having said their goodbyes earlier Wanda was on the couch reading a magazine while Vision examined the DVD player curiously. He could have started the memory at any moment; it took him a minute to realize why he hadn't done it already. Then he realized that he was analyzing the scene carefully-especially Vision-trying to find a speck of evidence that proved his theory.

The android wasn't doing anything unusual; he'd always been more than fascinated with human devices and the way they worked. Cautiously, Tony started the memory again-pausing it as soon as Vision turned around, probably to tell Wanda he'd figured out what was wrong with the device. He scrutinized everything-especially the way he was looking at the girl on the couch. It was a look Tony had seen before-though he typically saw it on the faces of shy teenagers. Not an android, especially one _he'd_ helped design. _I thought you couldn't feel emotions. At least, not strong ones._

He pressed the button again and the scene started in earnest. "It seems to me," Vision began in his usual overtly formal tone, "that some of the cording has come loose-"

In walked his doppelganger, a smile on his face. "Well, everyone's leaving. Are you sure you don't want to come upstairs and say goodbye?"

Wanda shook her head. "I still wish there was room on the plane for all of us."

He bit his lip, using his (unexpected) self control to tell her that he'd been on the phone for hours trying to get her a Visa. Before the Accords, when the Avengers had been going on missions willy nilly wherever they wanted to-completely ignoring foreign borders in the process-it hadn't mattered. But ever since the government had started cracking down, it was becoming harder and harder to forget that she wasn't an American citizen-and she didn't hold a very high standing in the eyes of the global community. He was beginning to wonder if they had a point-yes, she was a great kid, but she had about as much control over her abilities as Bruce Banner. And that made her dangerous-not just to other people but also to herself. That was why he'd told Vision his plan the night before; not just because he knew the android would enjoy watching over her for a few days but because if worst came to worst he would be the best equipped to handle the situation-whatever it happened to be. "Yeah, well. It's just a funeral. You really won't be missing much. So, have you figured out if you're signing the Accords yet?"

She looked away. _Why are you making this so damn hard for yourself?_ "I don't know yet."

"The UN isn't going to wait forever to hear your response."

"But if they have it...will anything really change? If something like Lagos happened on another mission, they still might lock me up. Only this time it would be government sanctioned." She shook her head. "I'm going to need to think it over."

"Ok. Well, call as soon as you figure something out." He turned to Vision, who'd quickly lost interest in the television set. "No throwing any wild parties, Vizh."

"Yes sir." Vision replied, sounding so like Jarvis for a second that Tony found it almost eerie. "I hope you and Mr. Rhodes have a good time in Vienna." While they wouldn't be witnessing the signing of the Accords themselves, Tony and Rhodey would be handling most of the Avengers' press conferences and media interviews in the absence of the team's other members.

"That won't be too hard." Doppelganger Tony hovered in the doorway for a second, as if torn whether to stay or go-until the real Tony gave it a nudge forward, so he was standing in front of Wanda. "No matter what happens, stay here. Don't try to do anything you'll regret later." She looked at him uncomprehendingly for a minute; he talked quickly before that confusion could turn to anger. "It's for your own safety. Maybe you don't understand that right now, but you will. If you leave this house, bad things are going to happen-not just to you but to everyone else as well." He paused the memory and shut it off with another click of the button, _Enough._ No matter how many times he went back and tried to fix it, no matter what he said...nothing would change what had actually happened. Nothing would change the effect it had not just on Rhodey and Vision, the only people who hadn't deserted him, but the rest of the team as well. All the device did was alter memories; it couldn't truly alter the past.

"Sir, General Ross is on the phone." FRIDAY intoned over the PA system. "He's quite insistent on speaking to you."

Tony sighed; the Secretary of State was the very last person he wanted to talk to at the moment, but he also wasn't the kind of person you just turned down. "Put him through." He knew what the topic of discussion was going to be: the same thing it had been for the past five days. The breach at the Raft, and the escape of four ex Avengers (six if you counted Steve and Bucky, which Tony certainly did because there was no way they could have orchestrated an escape attempt without someone outside waiting to help them.

Indeed, the first thing Ross said after Tony picked up the phone was say "Have you heard anything from Rogers yet?"

Tony couldn't help glancing at the letter he kept, hidden under a pile of old documents,that Steve had sent him a few days ago, saying that he and the rest of the Avengers would be there if he needed them. "No. I didn't hear anything then and I haven't heard anything now."

"We've traced them to an airfield in Washington DC but after that they vanish off the grid. They're obviously in hiding; any guesses as to where they might be headed?"

Even if Tony did know, which he didn't, no way would he tell General Ross. Secretary of State or not, the Avengers were still his friends. The least he could do was keep their secrets, even after everything that had happened. "Nope. Rogers knows all the places I'd check if I were in charge of the investigation; he's nowhere that I know about." Doubtless he was at some kind of safe house, far away from civilization. If he was smart, that is-and Tony was sure he was.

He could hear Ross's sigh even over the phone line. "I know you were friends with Rogers and his other fugitives for quite a time-and I understand you may be hiding things or even covering something up to protect them. However, if information ever comes to light that shows you withheld information or hindered our investigation in any way, you'll have to go on the run just like them. We owe the Avengers a great debt-but now they're criminals, and they must answer for what they have done. Mr. Stark, this is your final warning. I'm not playing games here; a lot of people in Washington are counting on me finding the fugitives, and they're not exactly the kind of people you disappoint. If there's anything else you know about either Rogers's escape or his current whereabouts, let me know now."

Tony sighed. "If I knew anything else, you'd be the first to know. But I'm just as in the dark as you are. They don't trust me anymore; why would they tell me where they're hiding? For all they know, I could turn them in."

"If you hear anything else, anything at all-"

"I'll call right away. I know the number. Have a good day, General." With that he pressed the End Call button and went to search out some Advil. Dealing with politicians always gave him a killer headache.

~A~

Rhodey was watching television in the den when he arrived, every so often walking from one side of the room to the other to test out his new leg. He insisted he got more and more used to it every time he used it, but he still stumbled quite a bit. No one said it of course, but Tony was sure Rhodey knew that the odds weren't good that he would be able to go Avenging for quite some time. "What did he say?"

He shrugged, grabbing a bottle of vodka out of the sideboard and taking a shot without even thinking about it. "He asked me if I knew where Rogers and the others are. Like usual. I told him I didn't."

"That's not the truth."  
"Not all of it."

Rhodey glanced at him curiously as he turned the channel to golf-a sport he loved to watch but no one else did. "Tony, do you really know where they went?"

He shrugged. "No, not really. I haven't heard from Rogers or Romanoff in days. I have my suspicions though-suspicions I haven't exactly shared with the Secretary of State."

"You're treading a thin line, Tony."

He smiled humorlessly. "I always tread a thin line. Besides, what if I guess correctly and they get captured again? You know what the next step could be…"

"Solitary confinement."

"Exactly." Ross had mentioned it once or twice in passing, talking about how the close proximity of the cells was probably one of the main factors leading to their escape. "Better to claim deniability."

"I suppose so." Rhodey changed the channel, flipping through the television guide listlessly. They bypassed a couple of news channels, where different newscasters squabbled over just where the (ex) Avengers had escaped to and whether or not they'd had an inside man helping them-potentially one of the three sanctioned members of the team. "Did you find anything interesting during your little trip down memory lane?"

"Nothing I didn't guess before." He glanced at his friend's metal leg, its general shape still visible even beneath his pant leg. "Are you sure the leg is comfortable enough?"

"It's fine. Look, you're making a much bigger deal out of this than you need to. You made me a _bionic leg,_ Tony. That should be enough for anybody-and it's more than enough for me." Tony could tell he was lying, if only a little bit-and he understood why. It shouldn't have happened. They shouldn't have been fighting in the first place, Vision shouldn't have gotten distracted, he shouldn't have taken that shot...but they'd all made mistakes, they'd all been frightened, and the world had taken advantage of their discord to pull them apart like cotton candy. They'd torn apart when they should have been pulling together-and now it was too late to go back.

Sometimes, knowing what he did now-that the Winter Soldier had murdered his parents and Steve had known about it, however indirectly, for a long time-he wondered just how much he would give to go back to a time when things were simpler. When he thought his parents' deaths were simply bad accidents. When he could still trust Captain America.

He sighed. "I'm sorry, Rhodes."

"Yeah." Rhodey added softly, looking at his new leg and not at Tony. "I'm kind of sorry too. Not about the Accords, but that things got this far."

Thinking about it too much was making Tony sick; he set his empty shot glass down on the coffee table and stood up, making sure he looked at anything but his best friend. "Hey, I'm going to get some dinner started. You good with frozen pizza? It's all we have left. I'll pick something up tomorrow."

Rhodey nodded, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Meat lover's?"

"The one and only."

For a few minutes, Tony could pretend things were back to normal. For just a few minutes, he could stop seeing the spaces where the other members of the team should have been-now conspicuously empty.

~A~

He found Vision right where he thought he would-in Wanda's bedroom, sitting on her bed with her guitar in his hand, meticulously plucking out a C chord. "Having fun?"

"Not really. She made it look much easier than it really is." The android's fingers slipped on the guitar strings and he started over, practicing each individual note again and again until he got it right.

"She was giving you lessons?"

"Only a couple, in odd moments. Nothing substantial." He finished the chord correctly and began again, still giving the instrument his usual perfect concentration.

Tony cleared his throat, trying to be as obvious about it as he could. Deep personal chats had never exactly been his cup of tea, but there was no one else to do it and it had to get done. "Vision, we have to talk."

"About my behavior during the fight at Leipzig?" the android replied, looking up at him curiously. He didn't take his hands off the guitar, still holding it protectively as if keeping it safe until its owner could come back for it. "Mr. Stark, I cannot apologize enough for becoming distracted at such an inopportune time. I promise that I will do everything in my power to ensure it does not happen again-"

"Would you just listen? Please? I'm not here to give you another lecture." He sighed, wondering how best to proceed. This was far out of his league; he didn't have conversations like this. He didn't know the first thing about how to go about doing it. If Pepper was here, he could have asked her...but seeing as she wasn't, he had to do it himself. "Well, not really. I want to ask you a few questions." When he was sure he had Vision's attention he said "When you said you got distracted in Leipzig...why exactly was that? I mean, usually you're so well put together-nothing ever fazes you. So what happened that day? What threw off your concentration?"

Vision was quiet for a long time, as if trying to find an answer Tony would accept. Before he could make something up-probably a lie-the billionaire continued with "I have a theory. Would you like to hear it?" He didn't wait for the android's answer. "I think you were distracted because the girl you love was hurt. You wanted to take care of her and I told you to do something you weren't ready to do. So really, when you think about it, it wasn't your fault. And, if we're really going to follow this train of thought, maybe you shouldn't go around thinking that it is."

"I don't love-"

"Of course you do. Why else would you have agreed to stay at the compound with her? Why else would you feel such an instinctive need to protect her? Why else would you be in her bedroom right now instead of watching us eat pizza downstairs? You're acting exactly like a first time boyfriend. And I fully support that. I mean, it's a little bit strange-and it would certainly help matters if your girlfriend wasn't a fugitive from the law-but I support it, even if you don't. Yet."

"I feel a...connection to her because of the Mind Gem, which gave us both our powers."

"But that's not all there is to it, is there?"

Reluctantly, Vision shook his head. "She is a member of the team; of course, I would do whatever needed to be done to protect her...but there is something else instead. Something...hard to explain. Harder to identify. I don't exactly know what it means; I have never felt anything like it before. All I understand is that whenever I am around her, things like logic and loyalty don't seem to matter as much as they usually do and I sometimes find myself thinking in a way that is not completely rational. Hence Colonel Rhodes's injury."

 _Knew it._ "Is that why you helped her escape?"

His eyes, when he turned to look at him, were completely expressionless. "I'm sorry? I don't believe I know what you're talking about."

Tony considered rolling his eyes but decided not to. "For an android, you really need to learn how to cover your tracks. All the security cameras were fried; there's no footage of the escape. Apparently the power went out momentarily, enabling Cap to sneak by security and get inside. There aren't many people I know who could stage a breakout like that in such a high security prison-and Captain Rogers might be very smart, but I don't think he's smart enough to pull that off. Tech stuff is right up your alley, Vizh."

"I wasn't planning on telling you."

"Probably to keep her safe. You think I'm going to go find them, force them back into custody." He laughed humorlessly. "I can't say I haven't thought about it a couple of times. It would make things so much easier for me. My telephone wouldn't be ringing off the desk at all hours of the day and night with either the government, the media, or both. I wouldn't mind seeing Steve or the Winter Soldier behind bars. But...not the others. They did what they thought was the right thing to do-and Steve _does_ have a point; in most situations, that's the only thing we can do. They were loyal-maybe not loyal to me, but loyal to this team. They don't deserve to be put in prison for that, even if they _did_ break the law. We were all to blame for what happened in Leipzig, not just their side. Don't worry. I won't ask you for the details. It's probably better for me not to know, anyway. I just...want to understand. And I want to understand you. It's been a year, but there are still days when I feel like you're a perfect stranger. Today's one of those days."

"I don't think I quite understand myself either. For a long time I believed I was a machine, incapable of feeling emotions and loving the way humans do so often and so freely. And now...I am not sure." He ran his fingers over the strings of the guitar with the utmost caution, like the soft whisper of a pair of butterfly wings. "I thought I was doing the best thing by confining her, that somehow I could keep her safe from her own abilities. But when she realized what I was trying to do...she would not look at me the same way. She kept her distance, retreated to her room, and tried to avoid being in the same room with me whenever possible. I realized that things were not as simple as I had once thought, that perhaps she did not want to be protected. I had damaged our friendship; I worried that I had damaged it beyond repair. And somehow, the thought that I may have lost her companionship was more terrible than the thought that she might accidentally blow up the grocery store if she went to get more paprika. My logic was...flawed."

"Welcome to being in love. It only gets more complicated. So, what are you planning to do about it?"

The android looked at him strangely. "What do you mean?"

"You've admitted that you love her. Congratulations! That's the first step. But where do you go from here? How are you _really_ going to win her heart?"

"She's a fugitive from the law, Mr. Stark. I believe it will be hard to see her again, much less tell her my true feelings."

"And that's where we run into our true problem, don't we? Do you stay here and hope your feelings will go away-or do you go find her and damn the consequences?"

"You must know that I can't simply leave. She made her choice and I made mine; we need to live with the consequences of said actions."

"That's what you tell yourself. And maybe it's for the best. It makes things a lot less messy-and a lot less complicated. And yet...you'll never know what would have happened, will you? You'll never learn if she felt the same way."

For a split second Vision looked like he was considering it-and then the emotionless mask came down again; he'd obviously remembered that he was supposed to be the world's protector instead of his own individual-and if that meant he had to forget the woman he loved, that was what he would do. "That's a chance I can take, Mr. Stark. It would be disloyal and irrational to defy the government and all common logic for the sake of one individual."

 _Love is hardly ever logical._ "Suit yourself." Tony replied, standing as he remembered that his pizza was probably cold by now. "We'll be eating downstairs if you'd like to join us."

"I think I will." He stood, smoothing down the bedspread as if from habit, set the guitar back on its stand with the utmost care, and left the room without giving Tony so much as a second glance. _You know, I can't tell for sure but I think I might have offended him._

He didn't know why he cared so much, or why he didn't tell Vision to just give up on the whole thing-he was probably better off without a love life anyway, if what had happened with Pepper was anything to go by. And yet...this 'civil war' had already ruined so many lives and torn apart so many relationships. If Vizh had a chance to find his happy ending, then he should take it-because there were so many who weren't able to.

However, Tony was probably just sleep deprived. He hadn't gotten good sleep in days, ever since he'd first seen that video-of the lone car on the empty road, its headlights reflecting off the silver motorcycle, and the red blood that covered the back of his father's head. Every time he tried to nod off he heard the sickening crunch the car had made as it hit the tree, the way his mother had screamed as she was strangled alive…

No, he didn't bear any ill will towards Scott, Clint, Sam, Wanda, or even Natasha. As for Steve and Bucky...well, he wasn't sure what he thought about them yet. And now, here he was-with his best friend learning how to walk again and an android with a broken heart. Even though he wasn't in trouble with the law, he couldn't help feeling that somehow he had lost the most. It wasn't fair. Then again, life never was.

 _If you need us...if you need me...we'll be there._

He hoped to God Steve had run, and run far away-Tony certainly wouldn't help the government, but he wouldn't be able to help anyone if the group was apprehended a second time. They were on their own-and in a way, so was he. They all had to pay for the consequences of their mistakes.

The pizza tasted like sawdust, as he ate it in a kitchen that suddenly seemed far too large-filled with the ghosts of what should have been and what he had lost.

 **Review, follow, and favorite! Thanks for reading!**


	5. Nightmares

Longing…

Rusted…

Seventeen…

Bucky grit his teeth, trying to block it out. He had to stop listening, had to stay in control of his own mind...Stop it stop it stop it.

Daybreak…

Furnace…

Nine…

Benign…

He slammed his head back against the headrest of his chair, eagerly welcoming the pain...anything to make the words stop, anything to distract his mind from what they said. An electric shock coursed through his body, ripping a scream from his already sore throat, but he didn't care. He didn't have another choice. He could not let himself turn. He had to fight it-or he would do something terrible again. The more it happened, the worse he got. It wouldn't be long before he did something he really regretted-something he couldn't take back.

But the words kept on coming, faster and faster as they got closer and closer to the end. His brain grew more and more muddled, memories falling away from him even as he tried to grip on for dear life. Homecoming…

One…

Freight car…

He screamed again, in one last agonized attempt to regain control-but even he could tell it wouldn't be enough. The buzzing inside his head grew louder and louder until it consumed him, inside and out-snatching away all reasonable thought, all hope for escape. And just like that, the Winter Soldier knew that Bucky was gone again. Who knew when he would come back?

"Soldier?"

The words tasted like lead on his tongue, leaving behind the scent of betrayal even as he said, quietly, "Ready to comply."

…

It was another mission, just like all the others he'd been on over the last fifty years or so. This time, he had to infiltrate a party and kill five guests: five guests who posed a threat to the organization. It wasn't something he hadn't done a thousand times before. He knew how to scout the room's perimeter, how to pinpoint his targets even as he slipped through the shadows that hugged the edges of the room like a metallic ghost. He knew how to press a small blade to the side of the first target's neck, severing the artery quickly and quietly, looking on expressionlessly as blood stained his brown jacket and the man crumpled to the floor in a broken heap. Bucky was about to move on like he was supposed to-until he saw his victim's face and saw Sam looking back at him through glassy eyes.

He went cold with terror and nearly crashed into a table of hors d'oeuvres behind him, breathing so hard his chest hurt. No...He looked around frantically for some hint this might have been a mistake; maybe the light was playing tricks on him. But no; this close, there was no mistaking it. It was Sam. He'd killed Sam.

A sick feeling coiled in the pit of his stomach as he glanced around the ballroom, crowded with people and waitstaff who all went about their business dancing, laughing, and drinking like he wasn't even there-and saw his four other targets. Scott and Clint stood by the window, taking in the night sky and conversing quietly in low tones. Wanda was perched on a leather couch in one corner of the room, talking animatedly to a group of other women in black evening gowns. And Steve...Steve was standing directly across the buffet table from him, blue eyes pleading. You're better than this. Don't do it.

He tried not to, he really did...but his training took over and he couldn't stop it. He couldn't snap out of it, not even as Clint's body broke on the rocks near the shorebreak far below them, sleeves cut with bloody ribbons from where he'd been pushed out the window. Not even when Scott fell to the ground with blood leaking from his sternum; Bucky's knife was buried hilt deep in his chest and his face was frozen in a look of disbelief as he choked on his own blood and slumped to the ground with a champagne glass still in his hand. Not even when the Winter Soldier reassessed, picked its next target, and broke Wanda's neck with one quick twist-leaving her lying on the ground like a broken doll.

And barely, just barely, when he was able to corner Steve and press his knife against the side of his neck-still covered in dried blood. The super soldier didn't try to run away or escape; maybe he knew it was futile, now that Bucky had gotten everyone else. Instead, he just stared at him; Bucky felt like his soul was being seared open as he said "Buck, this isn't you. Snap out of it."

"I'm trying to, but don't you see? I can't." he ground out, shaking from the effort it was taking not to run him through with his own knife. "I'm not strong enough to overcome what they did to me."  
"You can be. You just need to stop letting them control you."

He shook his head, metallic arm already drawing the knife back to make the final cut. "Don't you see? That's not good enough. Not anymore."

Steve's eyes stayed with him, long after the rest of his body lost control.

~A~

"James!"

He snapped awake, hitting his head so hard against the headpost of the too comfortable bed he'd been sleeping in for the last two nights that he groaned and buried his head in his pillow, trying to throw away not only the pain but the dream as well. Steve had only ever called him James if he was really trying to get his attention-and the Steve watching him from the doorway looked nearly panicked. He sighed and sat up more slowly this time, trying to sound normal even though his insides felt so twisted he could barely choke out a small "Sorry. Bad dream."

Steve took a step towards him and Bucky resisted the urge to shrink back, remembering how it had felt to drive the knife into soft flesh, how the blood had spattered all over him… "I've been trying to wake you up for the last fifteen minutes. You were yelling out."

"I'm...I'm fine, Steve. I'm sorry to wake you."

He took a seat on the edge of the bed and sighed. "No you're not. This isn't the first time this has happened, has it?"

Bucky looked away, flipping through his mental database for a suitable lie and coming up empty. "It's not the first time...but they've never been this bad before." They'd never felt so real. He was so weak and so vulnerable here; the fact that he didn't have his metal arm was a small comfort-with the right words, he could still be dangerous. He could still go out of control; he couldn't trust his own mind, not when Hydra still existed.

"What did you dream about?"

Again, he contemplated lying and again he decided against it. "I dreamt about...being the Winter Soldier again. How easy it was for them to break me."

Steve was quiet for a long time. He shifted slightly; Bucky could barely see his faint outline against the moonlight peeking in from under the curtains. The night wasn't silent, by any means; wind whistled through the trees outside, there was the creak and groan of a bedpost as someone else tossed and turned, and the light flickered and went out just as quickly beneath the office that Clint had converted his his bedroom. But in that moment, every move the (ex) Captain America made in the darkened room sounded like a gunshot. "Buck, that wasn't you-"

"Yes it was. I didn't know what I was doing...but I still pulled the trigger. I still murdered those people. I still remember how it felt to have their blood to run down my hands. Whether or not I meant to...they made me a weapon. They made me kill, perfectly and without question. Even if the real Bucky Barnes was locked inside his own mind, he was still an assassin." Damn Steve, always trying to be so self righteous. The truth wasn't all sunshine and roses. The world didn't work that way.

He sighed. "What's this about? What did you see?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Who did you kill?"

Bucky hoped that by staying silent Steve would stop prying and just forget about the whole thing-but he didn't; he just sat at the edge of the bed and waited for him to say "All of you: Sam, Scott, Clint, Wanda, and you too Steve. Without hesitation, without question. I couldn't stop myself, even when I realized what was doing. They were pulling my strings, making me be their puppet. As soon as they said the damn words...it was like the rational part of my brain switched off and I couldn't think anymore. I wasn't...me. I wasn't James Barnes. I was a monster." He shook his head, turning away; he didn't think he could stand being with his best friend, for right now at least. "I wish it had been a nightmare."

"Bucky-"

"Who's to say it's not going to happen again? What if someone were to discover the words and read them to me...Steve, I wouldn't be able to stop. And then you'd have to fight me-and you'd have to fight to kill."

"That's not going to happen." His voice was surprisingly adamant, like the possibility was too ridiculous for him to even consider. "You're never going to find yourself in a position like that again-ever. Do you understand?"

"You don't know that. I'm just asking you...if it came down to it, if it came between me and the team or me and the world...you would make the right call, wouldn't you?"

Steve didn't say anything for a very, very long time-and when he did, he spoke slowly; as though carefully measuring every word that left his mouth. "I would do what needed to be done to save as many people as I possibly could-and that includes you."

"Steve, I have to know. If you have to put me down...would you?"

He didn't reply immediately and somehow Bucky knew he was never going to respond at all.

He tried again. "I can't control myself when I'm like that. I can't snap out of it, you can't snap me out of it...if people try, they just end up getting hurt. You don't know what it's like, Steve; I fought Natasha in Berlin and I had no idea who she was. She was just another face, someone else who was getting in the way. Can you imagine what that would be like here? What if I was around the others? Would you want to bury Scott or Sam or Clint or Wanda because I lost control? Am I really more important than they are? Steve, I know you want to be a good friend, and I appreciate that-you're the best friend I've ever had and you've done so much for me. Far more than I can ever repay. You gave me a chance when no one else would, risked everything for my sake...and I need you to do this for me too. I don't want to die being shot at by a firing squad. If someone shuts me down, I would rather it be you."

When Steve spoke again, his voice was strangely husky-as though he'd forgotten how to speak properly. "The only reason I was able to risk everything for you was because you took a chance on me first-a skinny kid from Brooklyn with no real home and no real family. You trusted me when no one else would and gave me a chance after everyone else had written me off as a lost cause. Buck, you don't owe me a single thing. And if it's the last thing I do, I'm going to make sure you're never put in a position like that again. I'll never have to shut you down. You won't need it. We can figure this out-and we will. I just need you to trust me."

"I already do...but I need your word, Steve. I don't want to hurt anyone else. I don't want to hurt them." He nodded towards the rest of the house, and the four people who had somehow managed to become the closest thing he'd ever had to a family. Even Sam, who he still wasn't convinced he didn't hate. Just a little bit. "Please. I know I have no right to ask it of you, especially after everything you and the others have been through on my account...but please just promise me that."

Steve sighed-the long, drawn out sigh of the world weary and tired of living. It twisted at Bucky's heart strings and made him regret asking about it in the first place-but he stood firm. If things went south, no matter how unlikely Captain America said that was...he needed a contingency plan. He couldn't go on like this, flinching every time he heard one of the activation words mentioned out of context and always looking over his shoulder for the next thug Hydra would throw at him. "Fine. I promise you that...if it's truly necessary and there are no other options...I would do what had to be done to keep the rest of the team safe, even if that means shooting you. But only if there are no other options and we're out of time."

"Thank you, Steve." And he meant it, perhaps more than he'd meant almost anything in his entire life. He knew exactly what he was asking of the super soldier and exactly how much courage it took to say yes; then again, even before the serum courage had never been something Steve lacked.

"That's what friends do."

They sat in silence for a long time, until the world outside began to lighten and the sounds of the others stirring as they got up for the day began to drift under the crack in the door. Bucky could hear Sam and Scott arguing over whether they should make pancakes or scrambled eggs, the slam of the front door as Clint went to go hunting-he usually grabbed a bagel and headed out right away, before the sun got too hot-his insides twisted again, though in a pleasant way this time, at how...normal it all felt. At least, as normal as things could feel when they still had their suitcases packed and ready in case of an emergency.

And even though they were still in plenty of danger, Bucky couldn't help but think this was the most relaxed he'd been in a very long time.

He was home, if not in quite the way he'd expected. And he would do whatever it took to keep the rest of his family safe.


	6. Frivolous Actions

**Welcome to the new chapter! I was going to try to have this posted yesterday, but I've been dealing with some personal stuff recently and I didn't really do much writing over the weekend. Thank you for all the follows, favorites, and positive feedback. They really do encourage me to update faster :) and I'm so glad you enjoy the story.**

 **Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

 **Enjoy!**

"Yeah, I'll talk to you as soon as I can, Peanut. Yes. Yup. I love you too. Good night." Scott thumbed the END CALL button and sat staring at the blinking screen for a good five or six minutes, as if that could somehow call Cassie back to him. Kurt had flown in and finally worked his wizardry; now there was apparently a 0.999% chance that their phones could be tracked, which meant they were free to make calls. Although Steve discouraged calling people extraneously, he understood that Clint and Scott had families of their own-and they were able to get in touch with them nearly every night. Clint was always talking about visiting the farm someday, when all the buzz surrounding their escape had calmed down-but it had been a couple of weeks now and they were still front page news. Tip offs were pouring in from around the world; fortunately for the Avengers, none of them were true. "Man, does that picture make me look ugly."

For obvious reasons, they tried to stay away from news channels...but every so often the temptation became too great. Everyone was getting used to seeing their faces on Wanted posters.

It had come as a shock to everyone to see that Natasha was a fugitive as well. Clint had spit out his coffee, Scott had said some very...crude words, and Steve had practically fallen off the stepstool he was using to hang the curtains (they'd fallen off the rod again) and nearly impaled himself on the tape dispenser. They'd been trying to make contact, but wherever Natasha was it was obvious she didn't want to be found. To be honest, Scott didn't mind all that much; he'd only seen the Black Widow once but that was more than enough exposure therapy for him. But it was obvious everyone else missed her.

There was a lot of missing people that went on in the cabin. Every so often he would see Steve staring into space at nothing in particular and it would take a few minutes for him to snap back to reality again or watch Clint go into the woods early in the morning and not come back until dark. He certainly missed Hank, Hope, Luis, and Cassie. He thought about them all the time-from when he got up in the morning until he finally dragged himself to his bedroom at night. But there was nothing he could do about it; by choosing to join Captain America-a choice he didn't regret even now-he'd made it nearly impossible for him to ever see his relatives again. He'd had to adjust; they all did. They'd had to stop being an uneasy team and start being true family-because if they weren't there for each other, no one else would be. And he hated being lonely.

"They weren't exactly trying to flatter you." Sam replied, taking another swig of coffee and concentrating on the game of Monopoly he was playing with Bucky. Scott wasn't sure exactly what kind of bad blood there was between them but they both seemed locked in a constant fight to outdo each other-whether it was who could cut up the most apples for Wanda's fruit salad or who could shoot the most layups in their makeshift basketball games. "None of us look good."

"Be glad they haven't found us yet." Steve replied from his chair in the corner where he was reading a book. The cabin had come well stocked with books of all size and description; they'd been tearing through them like lightning, mostly because they didn't have anything else they could do instead.

Scott had to admit that the last couple of weeks _had_ been quite relaxing, though. Not have anything to do or anywhere to go while living in a constant state of fear as to whether or not they'd be found and arrested had certainly made them better companions-and he was beginning to realize he had more in common with these real life superheroes than he'd previously thought. Sure, he was still the new guy. And sure, he didn't quite fit in, but he was trying. He was doing the best he could-and for now that was all he could do.

"Hey Tic Tac, why don't you go upstairs and see if Wanda wants to watch a movie or something?"

"Oh...sure." Automatically he glanced toward Clint, waiting to see if he wanted to handle this one instead-Clint was the best at talking to their youngest member. Wanda was probably the Avenger Scott knew the least about; she'd been nice to him the few times they'd had a conversation but he still couldn't help wondering if the rumors were true and she could really make people see their worst nightmares. It certainly seemed like she could do everything else. But it didn't look like anyone else was going to cover for him this time so upstairs he went.

 _Of course_ her bedroom had to be in the attic. Because anything that didn't involve him having to crawl into a cramped, dark, enclosed space and nearly behead himself letting down the stepladder that would lead up to the attic was too easy. "Wanda?" he called, wondering if he'd get a response before he even had to go to the trouble of climbing up said ladder. "Do you want to watch a movie?"No response. Great. He started to climb, stopping when he reached the trapdoor and knocking a couple of times. "Wanda?" He deliberated for a minute about whether or not to go inside...until he heard the faint sound of someone crying.

When he opened the trapdoor and clambered up the last few ladder rungs into the attic itself, he found Wanda curled up on the window seat on the other side of the room, staring outside the window at the forest beyond while tears streaked down her face and collected in her hair. _Shit._ He'd never been good with crying girls-especially not telekinetic ones with the power to completely mind explode her enemies. But, like a good person, he went over and took a seat next to her anyway. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." she replied, voice thick. "Leave me alone, Scott."

It was probably sound advice, but for whatever reason he couldn't just leave her there in such a state. "Obviously, something's wrong. And I'm not just going to leave you here to cry. I want to help out." He was so completely and totally out of his depth here. He could do a lot of things-he could make people laugh, he could break into almost anything, and he wasn't too bad at computer hacking either-but comforting people was not one of them.

"If you really want to help out, then leave me alone. I don't need your help." she replied quietly, still sobbing. "You wouldn't understand."

"Try me. I've had a good ten or fifteen years of life experience more than you have. Maybe I can offer advice."

That made her laugh-but she was still crying, so what actually came out was a weird cry-laugh hybrid. "I didn't think that was your specialty."

"I'm a modern day Renaissance man. I have many talents. So, shoot. What's wrong?"

She sighed, sobs subsiding-if only so she could talk. "What _isn't_ wrong? We're out here in the middle of nowhere, on the run and completely isolated from everyone else. You and Clint might not be able to see your families again for a very long time. We could get arrested at any minute and dragged back to that...place-"

"First of all, that's not going to happen. We're not going back there." Any person who could justify putting a twenty two year old girl in a straitjacket was not someone Scott wanted to know. And second of all, it's not like Clint and I are leaving our families to wait and worry. We still talk to them every night. And yeah, it's hard not being able to see them...but it's only a temporary arrangement. Sooner or later we'll figure something out and things won't be so dangerous. And until then...we all made a choice. We all signed up for this, knowing full well we were going against the government and we might get in trouble. And yeah, I won't lie-this sucks. This really sucks. But...as far as being on the run goes, it could be worse. We have each other. I know it sounds cheesy, but none of us are alone. We fought for what we thought was right, no matter what the cost was. We stayed firm even in the face of adversity-and that's something to be proud of." _Hell yeah, Scott. Nice talk._

She nodded. "Everyone here is wonderful...but even so, I still get lonely and it makes me upset because I know I shouldn't be feeling that way. Steve has done so much for us to keep us safe, and I appreciate it, really, but I miss who we had to leave behind." He didn't respond right away; she obviously wasn't done talking so he gave her a few minutes to collect her thoughts. "You know that Pietro and I grew up on the streets. It wasn't a good way to grow up-we were always hungry, we slept in bombed out wrecks of houses that we were always afraid would cave in on us, we bought new clothes once or twice every year-but it was tolerable because we had each other. He...he was the only other person I could trust and confide in. He was my brother, but even more than that he was my best friend. He was like my other half and when he died in Sokovia last year I didn't know how it would be possible for me to go on. I'd never imagined living without him and I didn't think I'd be able to. But...the New Avengers team slowly became my new family. I didn't have Pietro, but they made me go to training and made me do things other than mourn. They made me feel needed and valued, like I was on the team for more than a sense of pity. And now they're gone too-and it's my fault. If I'd been able to control what happened in Lagos, none of this would have happened. And I miss the way things used to be. I miss living at the facility, training for hours and hours until I was so sore I could barely move, watching movies, cooking in that state of the art kitchen...I miss feeling like I belonged. Like maybe, even with my abilities, I could be more than a monster."

 _Wow._ That was probably more than she'd ever said to him at one time before. "You're not a monster. I know this whole thing probably hasn't convinced you of that, but just because you can shoot magic out of your hands doesn't mean you're a bad person or there's anything wrong with you. You're still you. You're still a human being-and you deserve to feel wanted. What happened in Lagos wasn't your fault. You made a mistake, but you did what you had to do. If Crossbones had blown himself up on the ground, dozens would have died. Yes, you killed some people-but you saved them too. And the Accords were going to happen anyway-Lagos just gave them a reason to move up the timetable. I can't imagine how hard it's been for you to move from place to place so much, especially over this last year, but I know that you have a family here." He pointed at the wooden floor beneath their feet. "There's four guys down there-five if you count me-who would do anything to keep you safe and make sure you're taken care of. Yeah, it's unconventional. Yeah, it's dangerous-but you _are_ valued. You always have been. We'll build a new life for ourselves, and eventually you won't miss the old one so much. Just give it time. Yeah, this sucks right now. It really does. But we'll get through it. I promise." He looked down again and sighed. "Sorry, I'm just really not good at comforting people-"

"No, you're doing a really nice job actually." She wasn't really crying anymore. That was a plus. "That...that was nice, Scott. Thank you."

"Yeah. I guess telling jokes isn't _all_ that I'm good at. Just most of it." He stood up and extended a hand to help her up. "So, how about it? Want to watch that movie now?"

For a moment she looked torn and he thought she was going to refuse again-but finally she smiled, just a little bit, and said "You know what? That might be nice."

"Awesome." They went back down the ladder; Scott nearly fell off about four times. "How can you stand that thing? It's out to kill me."

She laughed. "I guess I've gotten used to it. It's kind of nice having a room at the top of the house; it's hard to get to."

"Good point." He cleared his throat, reluctant to bring up the subject he'd been wondering about for the last couple of weeks. "Hey, so are-were-you and Vision a thing? Because if that's the case, I think it's really cute." She stiffened and he immediately realized he'd passed some sort of invisible boundary without knowing it. "Shit. Sorry. You don't have to answer that if you don't want to."

"No, it's okay." she replied. He was relieved to find she didn't sound angry; just deeply tired. That wasn't surprising; they all were, in one way or another. "It's just that...I'm not sure. He's very sweet, and he was so helpful after Pietro's death...but I don't know if it was or could ever be any more than that. First of all, he's an android and I'm a human. Granted, we're both freaks but we're not even the same species really. And second of all...I don't think he really knows what love is. I don't think either of us do."

"But if he did ask you out on a date, would you say no?"

"Well, considering he's a couple hundred miles away I don't think I really have to think about it." They reached the living room doorway and she strode in confidently, wiping the last tear marks from beneath her eyes on the corner of her sleeve and transforming her appearance completely so she looked nothing like the lonely kid who'd been sobbing on the window seat ten minutes earlier. Scott shook his head ruefully; he didn't think he'd ever be able to figure her out, even if he'd known her since before the Accords. But she wasn't as bad as he thought, even if she _could_ actually cause nightmares.

Steve nodded to him gratefully as Sam popped in the disc and started the DVD player. _Thanks._

 _No problem. Happy to help._

~A~

Vision couldn't say for sure, but he almost thought Tony Stark was...upset with him for not going after Wanda. Of course, the genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist would never admit it outright but things had been frosty between them ever since he'd come to see him the previous week. They barely ever talked; it seemed like now, more than ever, they had nothing to talk about. In fact, Vision had taken to spending more and more time in Wanda's bedroom looking out the window and watching the hours pass slowly by. Every so often Ross or one of his aids to come to see Mr. Stark to talk about the breach at the Raft and what could be done about the escaped prisoners, but none of that required an android's input and he was often ignored. Not that he minded.

"This can't possibly be healthy."

He looked up in mild curiosity as Rhodey leaned on one side of the doorway, eyeing his metal leg distrustfully. "What do you mean, Colonel Rhodes?"

Rhodey rolled his eyes. "How many times have I asked you to call me Rhodey? Anyway, I'm starting to worry about you Vizh. You spend all of your time in here. Like I said, that's not healthy. You should be out and doing something-not dwelling on what you can't change."

He nodded. "Sometimes I feel as though..if I just stayed here and sat quietly for long enough...perhaps things will go back to normal. Even though that is highly illogical…"

"It doesn't hurt to hope-but not when hope gets in the way of living."

"I believe Mr. Stark is upset with me."

"No, that's not it. I mean, I can understand how you might think that-he's always been terrible about expressing his feelings-but he's not upset with you. I think that he just blames himself for everything that's happened-and that amount of guilt isn't an easy thing to live with, especially when it's unfounded. He just wants you to be happy-and we can both see you aren't happy here."

That was an interesting proposition. What really defined 'happy'? Was it the feeling you got when you were surrounded by people you cared about? The feeling he used to get when he helped Clint's daughter color a picture with her carefully sharpened colored pencils? The one he got watching television with Wanda after a particularly hard training session, when she was too tired to do much more than turn on Netflix and give him the remote so he could find something good to watch? The...feeling he got whenever he heard guitar strains drifting from her room at odd hours of the day and night, lonely and filled with emotion but quite possibly the most beautiful things he'd ever heard? Yes, that feeling had been noticeably absent ever since the others had been interned.

In fact, once or twice he'd even harbored the shocking revelation that he wouldn't mind being locked up too, if it meant he could see the others-especially Wanda. Even though it was a supermax underwater prison in the middle of the ocean, that didn't mean he still didn't feel a need to protect her. And even though it was illogical and he didn't regret the stand he'd taken on the Accords, he still entertained the notion a little more than he cared to admit.

But that was uncomfortable to think about, so he tastefully changed the subject. "I'm sorry for what happened at the airport. I became distracted-and you paid the price."

Rhodey shook his head, as if shrugging it off. "Don't worry about it. Yeah, it sucks not being able to walk without this...thing." He tapped his metal leg as though it had visibly offended him. "Tony did a great job with it and I'm happy that he did...but it makes me feel like a robot, not a person. Of course, it's preferable to the other alternative-which is that I'll never walk again. But I don't blame you. We'd just been fighting, emotions were running high...and you were obviously preoccupied. I should have seen what was going on and I shouldn't have told you to shoot Sam."

"I apologize-I thought I was paying attention, but…"

"Listen, Vizh." He sighed, as if wondering how best to phrase it. "Sometimes there are people that you'd do anything for-no matter what, no matter where. They're just that important to you. They matter more than battle lines, more than life itself even. And when you find those people...you can't let them go. You'll never be happy if you do. Even if it's illogical, even if it goes against everything you've been taught...I'm not saying you should compromise your position, but...sometimes love isn't straightforward. It's tangled and it's messy, but we risk everything for it anyways. You've never felt love before; I can't say I blame you for getting distracted."

"Are you saying that I should go after her?"

"I'm saying that I don't think you'll ever really be happy without her unless you can find some closure in all of this-and you'll never get to see if she feels the same way."

"It goes against the government's wishes-"

"So? Worst comes to worse, we can tell them you were sent to bring them back in-even though the three of us will know that's not true. We'll cover for you here."

"You don't need to-"

"Just think it over, Vision. Please?"

"Fine. I will think it over." There was already something appealing in the idea; the idea of finding her before the government could and being able to keep her safe from them. Not to mention the much simpler fact that he missed her company and the connection they had formed based on the Mind Stone and their distrust of their own abilities. But he was a creature governed by logic and reason-and running off in search of a girl who may or may not love him was certainly not logical or rational. But Rhodey was his friend, so of course he would give the matter some thought.

~A~

Tony and Rhodey were arguing over who got to finish the fried rice (they'd both had a strange craving for Chinese takeout lately) when Vision strode through the door and said he was leaving to find the others.

The other two stealthily high fived under the table, even as Tony realized he'd be losing one of the two people left to him. But he dismissed that thought just as quickly; Vision needed to give into a selfish desire once and a while and do something that wasn't completely rational. Besides, if it would stop him from moping around like an angsty teenager Tony was all for it. "Great. When do you leave?"

"In approximately four minutes, as soon as I package the guitar correctly."

Tony spat his Coca Cola back into the glass, spraying soda all over the surface of the table while Rhodey swore and went to get some paper towels. "You're bringing a _guitar?"_

"I thought it would be a nice way to make amends. I suspect she misses it."

Rhodey's eyebrows had nearly disappeared into his hairline. "That's...very thoughtful of you, Vizh."

"I would like to ensure that neither of you will be upset with me for choosing this decidedly frivolous course of action." It was obvious he still hadn't come to terms with it himself.

"No, go ahead." Tony replied. "No objections here. Rhodey, anything from you?" Rhodey shook his head empathetically. "Looks like we're both in agreement. Go and get your girl, Vizh."

He shifted from foot to foot and sighed. "If she does decide not to be upset with me, I may not come back for quite a while as I will be with her and the others. If this is indeed the case, I would like to tell you both how greatly I appreciate both of your company and how I wish you the best of luck in all of your endeavors going forwards. I have learned so much from both of you and I wish you only the best."

Tony didn't tear up, of course, but he felt a telltale tightening in his chest he really shouldn't be feeling. Vizh was a robot, sure-but he was also a friend. And Tony would be lying if he said he wouldn't miss seeing him walking around the base at all hours of the day and night or trying to answer all of his myriad questions about being a human. But humans were more or less controlled by their emotions-even the irrational ones. "Yeah, well...you're not too bad yourself, and you can always come back if you need to. The door's always open-and I promise not to rent out your bedroom while you're gone."

"Thank you, Mr. Stark. Your sentiment is appreciated greatly."

~A~

Ten minutes later, Vision was driving off with a guitar in the passenger's seat and a backpack containing the folder of sheet music, a couple of books selected at random, and a few hundred dollars in cash Rhodey and Tony hadn't let him leave behind. Tony had no idea where he was going, but he looked confident. He'd be fine.

"Think he'll ever show up?" Rhodey asked as the car disappeared down the road and turned onto the highway.

Tony shrugged. "You know, I'm proud of him. He's growing up so fast."

"Yeah, kids usually do. If you can call him a kid."

"Technically he's only a year old."

"Technically."

"Right."

They stayed at the front window for quite a while after the car had driven out of sight and its trail of exhaust had evaporated into thin air. "He'll be fine, Tony."

"Yeah, I know. He'll have fun." Maybe at least one of them could fix this mess.

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	7. Reunion

**Apparently this chapter is 7,663 words long, not counting author's notes. Wow. I don't think I've ever written a chapter this long for any of my stories before. I guess I just got so into writing the chapter that the word count pretty much spiraled out of control. I was going to stop with the first part of the chapter, but since I like having multiple POVs per chapter and I really wanted to add the last part that I wrote it anyway. And I have to say, I had a really fun time writing it (I mean, I have a great time writing all of my chapters but this one was especially fun).**

 **In other news, thank you so much for all of the reviews, favorites, and over 100 follows! :) They ensure that this story always goes to the top of my To Do pile, which ensures quick updates!**

 **Enjoy the new chapter!**

Having gone to public schools his entire life, Peter Parker was used to seeing a lot of strange things. Earlier in the year he'd had to stand outside for nearly an hour because someone had set a trash can on fire-and there were kids in a few of his classes who did stranger things than that. Mostly he just kept his head down and tried to stay out of all the gossip and the drama synonymous with schools of any kind; he was a mostly good student, with especially high grades in math and computer science and a low grade in history (in the first place because history was boring and secondly because he was pretty sure his history teacher hated him). He kept his nose to the grindstone, worked hard, and didn't do much to put himself out there. He had some friends, but not a posse-and he was just fine with that. It was easier than having to lie to a bunch of people about where he went at night-it certainly wasn't the library, as he would have them believe.

"Mr. Parker?" his English teacher, Ms. Gardner, said, hanging up on a phone call from the office. "Please go down to the office. There's someone waiting who wants to talk to you."

Automatically, Peter's mind began to scroll through the list of people who could be bothering him the middle of the school day. Unless it was an emergency it wouldn't be Aunt May-if something was going on, she'd wait until after he got home from school to tell her about it. Which meant he had zero other he found himself packing up his books and pencils, swinging his backpack almost carelessly over one shoulder, and leaving anyway.

He happened to glance outside at the school's small parking lot and immediately everything made sense. It took all the self control and maturity he had not to run the rest of the way to the office. He hadn't heard from Tony Stark in nearly a month; he'd taken that to mean he hadn't been impressive enough in Germany. He'd been upset at first, of course; fighting alongside other superheroes, especially the ones he'd read so much about, filled him with a kind of frenzied joy he'd never felt before. But as it became increasingly clearer and clearer his involvement had just been a one time thing, he realized that he didn't really mind having a couple more years of normal either. Of course, that didn't mean he still didn't regret losing such a dream job. But if Stark was here now…

The school's secretary handed him a pass and said "Your aunt called. Apparently you have a last minute doctor's appointment?"

"Yup. Doctor's office-completely forgot. See you tomorrow." He gave her one last smile and took off running out the front door and down the steps-completely ignoring the security guard who yelled at him to slow down-jumping the last five to the pavement and racing over to the fancy red car that definitely didn't look like it belonged in Queens.

The same car he'd seen parked in front of his apartment building a few weeks ago, before his already strange life became extraordinary.

"Good to see you again, Peter." Tony said as Peter slid into the passenger's seat after unceremoniously depositing his backpack in the backseat. "How's school been treating you?"

"Fine, I guess. None of my teachers were really happy that I just flew to Germany with no advanced warning, but when I told them what you told me to say-you know, that I was going to apply for a really competitive scholarship they instantly changed their minds."

Stark smirked as he gunned the gas pedal and they roared into traffic. He drove fast, with almost a controlled recklessness; Peter found himself enjoying the ride immensely but at the same time worried they would crash. "I would think that most teachers would."

"Does Aunt May really know I'm here?"

"Nope. Does that bother you?"

"No-anything to get me out of History. But the secretary said that she called-"

"Voice recognition software. Top of the line-not even available on the market yet. I have to say, it's some of my best work. Did it work perfectly?"

"Yeah, you could say that." For the first time it seemed to strike him that they were driving out of the city, big skyscrapers giving way to smaller office buildings that soon melted into even smaller subdivisions. "I guess I should ask where we're going?"

"I thought I'd clean house a little bit today and I found some old tech I thought you might want to go through. You know, since there's almost nobody living at the base anymore-"

The pieces fell together in his mind and he nearly jumped out of his seat in shock. "You're taking me to the _Avengers_ base?"

"Calm down, kid. It's not Area 51-although I'm sure it's even more impressive than you think it is."

Peter could only shake his head in disbelief. He knew about the Avengers base, of course-everyone did. The Avengers were already subject to constant media scrutiny and an almost cult following of fans; when word got out that a new facility was being built to accommodate an almost entirely new team of heroes, it had been all over the tabloids in the grocery store aisles for weeks. The world had scrambled to find leaked pictures of the base's new rooms online (apparently, it cost half a billion dollars to build and was rumored to contain a swimming pool, a bowling alley, a state of the art training facility, a screening room with a plasma screen TV and surround sound that rivaled any movie theatre, and over forty bedrooms-and those were just the highlights-spread out on an estate that spanned miles in every direction) but even so, the new facility had remained frustratingly secret. "Wow. Is there really a swimming pool?"

"Two, actually. Three if you count the hot tub. Why? Think about going out for the swim team?"

He shook his head, mind still stuck on the fact that he was actually going to get to see where the greatest superheroes in the world stayed when they weren't on duty-at least, until they'd all been arrested. "Mr. Stark, do you know where Captain America and his team are?" It had been all over the news for days; apparently, they'd disappeared without a trace in the middle of the afternoon and chances were high it was an inside job.

Tony's fingers tightened on the steering wheel and his knuckles turned white. "Not you too, Parker. I thought I'd given enough statements about that."

"Right. Sorry." He knew when he'd pushed too far-and he sensed he was just treading an invisible line between what he could ask about and what would get him dropped in the middle of the road so he'd have to hitchhike back to the city.

He considered asking another question, maybe something about whether or not he'd be able to get something to eat at the Base because Tony had so inconsiderately forced him to skip lunch, but he decided against it. They spent the rest of the ride in silence, each absorbed in their own thoughts-and, in Peter's case, warm anticipation.

~A~

"You actually _live here?_ This place looks like a museum!"

Tony smiled quietly as Peter leapt out of the car, examining the building in a look of openmouthed awe. For once the tabloids had gotten something right-in fact, they'd even managed to fall short of the facility's splendor. It covered the horizon, long and sprawling with plenty of glass windows to look out at the cloudy spring day, while a single gray 'A' looked back at them calmly. "Yeah, well. It's a training facility first and foremost...but it was always meant to be a home away from home as well. Come on-you haven't even seen the inside." He stepped up to the door, was buzzed through by a retinal scanner, and held the door for Peter-who walked into room upon room furnished in polished chrome or neutrally painted walls. Everything was sleek, streamlined, and ultramodern-in fact, the entire room looked like it had come straight out of one of the fashion magazines Aunt May loved to read.

"Wow." he whispered in wonder, passing a wall that glowed blue when he ran his fingers along it absentmindedly.

"I know. I'm quite proud of it, actually. Granted, I never thought I'd really be living here but...Rhodey needed a little help getting around and I realized I could actually use a break from the outside world for a little while. You'll have to mind the mess; I've been trying to clean up, but the others didn't really have a chance to take their stuff with them when they got arrested so there's a lot of random stuff just lying around." As if to accentuate his words, they passed a framed photograph on a side table of Sam, Rhodey, and Wanda sitting outside on the base's back porch with glasses of lemonade, laughing at something off camera. It made Peter stop short; the three people in the photograph looked completely different from the ones he'd fought with and against in Leipzig-they looked happier, while in real life they just looked tired...like they constantly felt the weight of the world pressing down on their shoulders. He was struck anew by the realization that being a superhero certainly wasn't as fun as it looked.

"That's okay. I live in Queens. I'm used to messes." His stomach growled before he could stop it and he cleared his throat in embarrassment. "Hey, do you have any pizza lying around?"

"Follow me-there's some cold stuff in the fridge." Once Peter was comfortably seated at the kitchen table with a couple of pieces of pizza on a paper plate in front of him (and a couple more on the counter, in case he got hungry) Tony went to get the accessories he'd wanted to show him in the first place. That left Peter with about five minutes to gather his thoughts-not that they particularly wanted to be gathered. Rather, they were spinning around in random directions. _This sure beats that English test 7th hour._

"You must be the famous Spider Man."

He looked up in surprise as someone else stopped in the doorway and looked in at him-War Machine (Rhodey), though Peter almost didn't recognize him without his mask on. They hadn't exactly had much time to get to know each other before the airport battle. "Hey. Yeah, that's me. I'm Spider Man. And you're War Machine, right?"

"Yeah, but call me Rhodey. We're not on duty right now." For the first time Peter saw that one of his legs was completely metal, though he was trying to cover it with a pair of grey sweatpants. He winced inwardly; people had gotten hurt in Germany, though he'd had so much fun fighting alongside them. "Did Tony abduct you to show you all of his old tech?"

"He didn't really abduct me. I mean, I guess technically he did but I really don't mind. I have a test today I didn't study for."

Rhodey laughed. "How old are you, kid?"

"Fifteen-but I'll be sixteen in August."

He couldn't be sure, but he thought he muttered something along the lines of "Now a lot of things make a lot more sense." but to Peter's face he said "So what's it been like, getting back to your normal routine? Do you miss being part of the team?"

He shrugged. "Kind of. I mean, what happened in Germany was pretty fun-besides you getting shot out of the sky, I mean. That looked really painful-but I guess it's kind of nice to come back home and have things be just like they were before. I don't think I'd really want people coming up to me all the time and asking me if I was Spider Man or thanking me for saving the world or anything like that. It's nice that no one knows I left because no one thinks to ask any weird questions."

"That's true-but you did a good job. I was really impressed-and I know Tony was too. You've made a name for yourself, kid-in a few years, I'm sure the Avengers would be happy to offer you a job."

"I just might take you up on that offer."

"I thought you said you were going to take a nap." Tony brushed past Rhodey and practically slammed a dusty box down onto the kitchen table.

"I did, but I couldn't stay that way. Your _Black Sabbath_ was too loud."

"Then go turn it off. The kid and I need to look through some of this stuff; I don't think you'd find any of it interesting."

Rhodey rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine. I can tell when I'm not wanted. But make sure you bring him home at a decent time, Stark-the last thing we need is his aunt suing us or something."

"His incredibly hot aunt will most definitely not be suing anybody. Spiderling will be home before she misses him." Peter didn't even bother to correct him as Rhodey left and Tony pulled out the first item at the top of the box. At first, it didn't look like much; just a tiny piece of plastic barely bigger than his thumbnail-but Tony held it reverently, with the utmost care. "This, Parker, is going to become your new best friend."

"What is it?"

"Why don't you see for yourself. Just hold it to your face." Peter did as he said, taking the small square and pressing it to the side of his cheek. The reaction was instantaneous; he felt something cold run down his spine and Tony handed him a small hand mirror. The face that looked back at him wasn't his own; his usual brown hair had turned an inky black and he was somehow sporting a stylish mustache to match. When he pulled the square away he turned back to Peter Parker. "What do you think?"

"Wow. How does it work?"

"I'm glad you asked." He spouted off a bunch of scientific jargon that Peter, with his limited knowledge of machinery, didn't understand. When he realized the teenager was staring at him in blank confusion, he added "Basically, it analyzes your DNA and shifts it slightly to change your appearance-perfect for your last minute getaway." He pulled a box off the back counter and placed the square inside of it before he reached for the next item.

For the next two hours, he and Peter went through the entire box. Everything did something that would be incredibly useful for a crime fighter who was still in high school; there was a fake dummy that Peter could inflate with the push of a button who would copy his breathing patterns exactly so Aunt May would never need to know he snuck out at night; tools that would help him break into and out of almost everything (except banks); and a handheld GPS that supposedly picked up on any criminal activity within two hundred yards (though even Tony admitted the technology was old and faulty at best). All of it was in amazingly pristine condition even after spending a few decades in dusty corners of various attics; Peter could have gone dumpster diving for the rest of his life and never found anything that even came close. By the time Tony had finished packaging everything up he was speechless, unable to believe his luck-and wondering if it was all just some really weird lucid dream.

"Thanks, Mr. Stark." he said, examining his new haul with no small amount of excitement. "I don't know how to repay you-"

"Hey, don't worry about it. I still owe you one for Germany, don't I?"

"Well, considering you paid for airfare, meals, the new suit, that little Spider Man signal-thanks for that by the way, it's amazing and I use it all the time-bribed those TSA officers at the airport and helped me fabricate a cover story for Aunt May so I wouldn't get in trouble...I don't think so."

"Then consider it a gift from a lonely man." Peter's knee jerk reaction was, of course, to wonder how a billionaire like Tony Stark with all the money and gadgetry he could ever want could be lonely-but it didn't take him long to remember the photograph and the way the entire building seemed to have an air of loneliness and regret around it. Like something was missing. Or, to be more precise, eight someones. "I don't need any of this stuff anymore and I'm sure you'll put it to good use."

"Where's Vision?" The android had been on Tony's side during the airport battle; Peter was positive, mostly because he'd been so glad he hadn't had to fight him.

For a second, Tony looked like he wasn't going to respond altogether-but finally he sighed and said "He left a couple of days ago. Said he needed to think about some things, and he didn't say when he'll be back. Honestly, I don't blame the guy-we've all had a lot to think about for the past few weeks. If he can find some closure, power to him. Why? Is the base feeling a little too big to you too?"

"I guess it's just odd not having the Avengers anymore." In the few years since the Battle of New York the team had become such a large part of the world's defense and pop culture; it was hard to imagine not having them to defend the world's hapless population.

"Yeah. We all made some mistakes. I just hope we're able to work through them by the time the next big threat decides to take a crack at us." Tony got up to throw away Peter's greasy paper plate and for just the tiniest moment Peter saw...something as he stood over the trash can: a crack in the inventor's buoyant exterior, revealing a man underneath who might have given away his old tech not just because he could but because he saw it as a way of making amends to a much greater problem. "But you're old enough to know that everyone makes choices-and sometimes choices have consequences."

"Yeah." Like when you chose to fight crime when you were still in high school. That sure changed your whole outlook on life-and homework. "I mean, if I hadn't chosen to be Spider Man, where would we be now?"

"About that…" Tony glanced at his hand, probably remembering how Peter had webbed it to a doorknob back in New York City. "What exactly happened to you? I mean, you don't get reflexes like that just from going to the gym."

"It's kind of a weird story. You're probably going to think it's stupid."

"I've heard a lot of weird, kid. Try me."

Even so, Peter hesitated for a moment before he revealed his best kept secret to someone who was still (almost) a stranger. "I had a little internship at this research facility back in the fall, because I'm really into science and it was just easy stuff-filing papers, taking notes, that sort of thing. I wasn't supposed to be doing anything dangerous...until one day I got bit by a radioactive spider. I started...being able to do these weird things, you know? I could walk on walls and shoot webbing out of my hands...I had super fast reflexes...and they wouldn't go away. At first it was kind of scary...but when I didn't use my powers, bad things started happening. Things that I could have prevented, if I'd just been a little stronger and a little smarter. That was when I realized that, scared or not, I had a duty to use my powers. I had to help people, you know? I had to help the people who couldn't help themselves; because what good is it to have powers you can't explain if you don't use them to do anything meaningful? And I've been fighting crime ever since."

"You're pretty damn good at it, for someone who only acquired your powers a few months ago."

He shrugged. "It's okay. I practice a lot. There's a lot of yahoos in New York City; I'm doing them a favor, really."

"I'm sure you are."

"Mr. Stark? Can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

"...If I was older, and the airport fight was like my 'audition' to get into the Avengers...would I have passed?"

Tony smirked. "Yeah, kid. You definitely would have passed. But don't try to be an Avenger yet. It's not all parties and fun. Sometimes bad things happen and good people get hurt. If you want to be a member of the team, you have to know what you're willing to lose-and who you're willing to hurt."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, while the clock ticked away in the background. Peter was becoming all too aware of how soon school would let out-and how soon after that Aunt May would expect him to come home. And it wasn't like he could make up an excuse-if he said he was going out with some friends she'd definitely know he was lying, because none of his friends were exactly the going out type. If he stayed here much longer, awesome as it was, he was going to be in huge trouble. "Mr. Stark, I'm really grateful for all the gifts and things but-"

Tony nodded and stood up, grabbing his key ring from the back of the door and motioning for Peter to take the box and follow him down a hallway he hadn't noticed before. "Yeah, we'll head out in just a minute. Wouldn't want Aunt Hottie to ground you or anything-but I want to show you something first."

They walked down a couple of hallways until they reached a long, white room-covered in photos. They were everywhere; hanging on the walls, stacked in piles on tables ringing the room, and overflowing from photo albums on a stainless steel bookshelf-and they all showed the Avengers in some capacity. Whether it was the original team, the new team, or everyone together it afforded Peter a look into a world he was sure very few people knew existed: a world of not just heroes and villains, but of regular people forced to play amazing roles. There were Falcon and Captain America playing Monopoly on the veranda and Black Widow and Hawkeye reading books on a window seat at what was probably Avengers Tower. Scarlet Witch and Vision sitting on opposite sides of the screening room and trying to sneak glances at each other out of the corners of their eyes. Steve and Tony posing together with an ecstatic young woman, in full costume. "Looks like you guys have a lot of fun."

"More than you might think, actually. I started creating this room a long time ago, actually-a few months after the Battle of New York. We'd stopped thinking that just because we stopped the Chitauri we'd never be challenged again...and I started to worry about what would happen if a mission went south and we all ended up dead. How I want people to remember us, you know. I guess that's where the habit came from-and it hasn't stopped. I've been trying to capture everything-the good and the bad, everything that made us Avengers and put us where we are today. When the newbies came along, I added them too. But now, after what's happened in Leipzig...it's been giving me more guilt than happiness." He pointed at a picture in front of him; a shot of a girl Peter guessed had to be Scarlet Witch, but she didn't look at all like the red coated telepath they showed on TV. She was wearing a simple black dress and smiled for the camera, but it didn't reach her eyes. In fact, there was a vulnerability to her that Peter hadn't seen in real life; something about her eyes that reminded him that she was just a few years older than he was. "You know, if it weren't for me she wouldn't be a member of the team at all. She'd be in college right now, planning for her future-probably waiting to catch the first plane out of Sokovia. But when she was ten years old...one of my missiles blew up her apartment building and killed her parents. She and her brother lived on the streets for eight years before they submitted themselves for experimentation. They were just like you; they wanted to save their country, to fight for the common man...but they had a deeper motive. They wanted vengeance for their parents' deaths, and they saw joining HYDRA as the only way they could do that. The only way they could make a change in the world. And look how that turned out for them in the end." He shook his head sadly. "The things I've done have hurt and killed a lot of people...but I guess until I met them, it didn't really matter. I turned a blind eye, explained it all away as collateral damage...and I forgot how much collateral damage really does impact people. All the people killed in New York or crushed by falling buildings in Sokovia...their deaths had major impacts on families all over the globe. I couldn't save them all. _We_ couldn't save them all. That's why the Accords are so necessary-but sometimes it doesn't seem that way when I think about how Steve's in the wrong but he still has his team. Probably Natasha too, by now. They were all willing to follow him, more than they wanted to follow me-and now I have to pick up the pieces of their mess. Again."

For a long time, Peter didn't know what to say. He didn't know why Tony had chosen to confess this to him, of all people-and he wasn't sure how to react. How did you fix this kind of a situation, when he could practically feel the guilt like a living being in the room with them? "What happened to the twins-and all the people in New York and Sokovia too-wasn't your fault. You did the best you could, but people slipped through the cracks. People always slip through the cracks, no matter how careful you try to be. You can't always save everyone. I try the best I can to stop crime, but sometimes people still get hurt. The only thing that matters is that you grieve, recover, and stand to fight another day. Because if you don't, the bad guys win and nobody gets saved. The only thing to do is let it go-let _them_ go-and not guilt yourself." He looked down; if they were swapping stories, he might as well share his. "A little while after I got my powers, my uncle died in a hit and run. I know it's not really the truth...but sometimes I feel he died because of me. And I've had to deal with that feeling ever since."

They stood there for a long time, until Tony abruptly turned and walked out-with Peter close on his heels. They went back to the car, got inside, drove off-and didn't start talking until they were halfway back.

"You're smart, kid." Tony said, turning down his rock music by just a small increment. "And not just about algebra."

Peter nodded. "Thanks for the tech. It'll really help out, especially once finals start."

"No problem. Happy I could help. Thanks for coming down today."

He had to smile at that. "No offense, but I don't think I really had a choice."

"No, you didn't-but thanks for coming anyway. You haven't ruined the suit yet?"

"No. I've been trying not to."

"Good. That thing wasn't exactly cheap, you know…" For the rest of the ride back they made casual small talk; they certainly didn't talk about anything deep, and Peter didn't mind. It was incredibly easy to talk to Tony Stark, age and income difference aside; he seemed to understand being a teenager better than almost anyone else Peter knew, including most of his teachers. He was almost sad to have to get out of the car at his apartment building in Queens, almost an hour late. "Sorry it took so long."

"No problem. I know exactly what I'm going to tell Aunt May."

"Here." He grabbed Peter's phone and added his number to the contact list. "I'll text if I ever need Spider Man again, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks for the pizza."

"No problem. See you later." With that he drove off, a last wave over his shoulder and Black Sabbath blasting from the car stereos. Peter couldn't help laughing as he let himself into the building and studiously maneuvered the box around the stoners that made camp on the first floor, heading for the elevator bank that would take him up to his floor.

"Peter Parker! Where have you been? Do you have any idea what time it is?" May asked as soon as he stepped through the door.

He sent her his most winning smile and said "I was with Tony Stark. He wanted to talk about the grant again. I think I have a really good chance of getting it, Aunt May!" That shut her right up.

He retreated to his room and sat on the edge of his bed, touching his new equipment with a new reverence; a reverence for what had truly been an extraordinary day.

~A~

"You know, if we're going to be living domestic and everything we should really get a cat." Scott said one morning at dinner after about three weeks on the run.

Sam rolled his eyes as he poured himself another cup of coffee. "That is the worst idea I have ever heard in my entire life."

"Why? Don't you like cats?"

"Sure I like cats-but that doesn't mean we need one, especially when we could have to make a quick getaway at any given moment. What're we going to do, try and find a way to take it with us?"

Now it was Scott's turn to roll his eyes and try to appeal to Steve instead. "I think a cat is just what we need after everything that's happened-"

"Sorry, Scott." Steve replied. "I'm with Sam on this one. It's just not practical for us to get a cat right now."

He shrugged in conceded defeat and grabbed a waffle from the center of the table. Bucky always made waffles on Saturday mornings; he was an expert at making sure they came out of the iron light and fluffy and everyone else adored them. Everyone else had been too lazy to cook, so it was requested that he make them again-a challenge he'd accepted gamely. "It was worth a try."

"I think I'm going to try and go hunting tomorrow morning." Clint said, glancing at his bow and arrows that were permanently kept by the front door. "We're kind of running low and I don't think we want to risk another trip to the grocery store yet." The reward for information leading to the Avengers' capture had risen to fifteen thousand dollars.

"It's probably going to rain. Don't bother. We'll get by-there's canned chili in the pantry that we can live off of for a while if we have to." Steve replied.

"We can play Monopoly." Sam suggested, prompting a round of groans.

"All we've done for the past _week_ is play Monopoly." Wanda said. "It's fun-but not _that_ fun."

"Well, no one's mentioning any better ideas." Spending all day every day cooped up inside the cabin was enough to drive them all slightly stir crazy. They were used to action-saving people, throwing themselves recklessly in harm's way so innocent civilians could be saved. Not all of this sneaking around and trying to lie low, knowing that if they were found again there was a good chance they wouldn't be able to escape.

Almost as if in answer to his words, a clap of thunder seemed to practically shake the house on its foundation. Rain came down in sheets, slashing at the glass windowpanes and pooling in the gutters and wet, soaking pools on the grass. Everyone sighed inwardly; there'd be nothing outdoors for the rest of the night-and maybe into the next morning, if Weather Underground could be trusted. "Monopoly it is."

They'd barely started dealing out cards when there was a particularly loud clap of thunder that made them all jump. Wanda bit her lip and started to pick up the handful of fives, tens, and ones she'd dropped; thunder just reminded her of helicopter blades and gunfire, which reminded her of the Raft-which she was trying to forget.

It took a minute for everyone to hear the knocking on the door-and immediately everyone stiffened, the tension in the room ratcheting up to a ten. There was absolutely no reason anyone would be knocking on their door in the middle of a thunderstorm; they didn't have any neighbors for miles. And yet...the noise was too quiet to belong to law enforcement. They exchanged a glance as another knock sounded through the silent air.

Clearing his throat, Steve got to his feet and said "I'll get it." Taking one for the team. Just like always. With bated breath, everyone watched as he crossed to the door, out of sight, and opened it. There were a few minutes of conversing in a low voice with whoever happened to be at the door and then he called back to them, very strangely, "Wanda, would you mind coming here please?"

"Sure." she said, getting up from the table and trying to ignore the way she had started shaking, not meeting anyone's eye.

She didn't know what she'd been expecting to see at the door, but she certainly hadn't been expecting to see Vision standing there in the rain. Holding her guitar.

For a long moment they just looked at each other; him in calm understanding and her trying to make sense of why he was here, of all places. How had he gotten here? What did he want? Was he going to report them to Ross-and if he wasn't, what was he going to do instead? She glanced towards Steve, who looked back at her helplessly (obviously he'd been under the impression she'd know how to handle this better than he did-which was, unfortunately, mistaken) and then back towards Vision, who stood watching her patiently and not seeming to mind that his suit was completely soaked through. Because yes, of course he was wearing a suit in the middle of a rainstorm. It was such a... _Vision_ thing to do that she reacted the only way she knew how to.

She slammed the door.

And, of course, instantly regretted it.

"Are you all right?" Steve asked and she realized with some embarrassment that the shaking had only gotten worse.

"No...I mean, I don't know. I don't know what's going on...why is _he_ here?" That seemed to be the most obvious problem, so she decided to tackle it first.

"I don't know. I was hoping you did."

"Should we let him in? Can we trust him?"

Steve shrugged and gestured to the door as if to say _Maybe you should ask him._

She took a small breath to collect herself again and opened the door. Vision was still waiting there calmly. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to give you this." He handed her the guitar case, scattering more water onto the already soaked Welcome mat. "You left it back at the Base and I thought you would miss it."

She couldn't deny how nice it felt to have the instrument back in her hands where it belonged-but this didn't change the fact that he'd _driven all the way from the Avengers base_ just to give it to her. "Is that all?"

"Not quite. May I come in?"

"...Okay. Will you tell General Ross or Mr. Stark where we are?"

"That is not my intention. I would never turn you over to their justice." There was an edge in his voice she'd only heard there once before, when he'd told her she couldn't go to the grocery store when she was on house arrest back at the compound. It was almost as if he was... _angry_ at the thought of her going back to the Raft. _Strange. We don't exactly see eye to eye._

"Then I suppose."

He came inside and stood on the Welcome Mat, dripping wet-at least until he seemed to phase in and out of being, returning in a fresh suit-white tie instead of black tie. "Thank you. It was quite rainy outside."

"What's going on, Steve?" Sam called from the other room, game paused indefinitely. He ran in-and skidded to a stop when he saw Vision.

"Hello, Mr. Wilson." Vision said calmly.

"What's he doing here?" Sam asked, turning to Wanda. She (almost) rolled her eyes; why did everyone think she was suddenly an expert on the android's strange behaviors? She barely knew him. As it was, she just shook her head.

"He says he's not going to sell us out." she muttered, turning back to Vision. "Although he brings up a good point. Why _are_ you here?"

"I wanted to talk to you."

 _Oh my God._ He hadn't just said that. She closed her eyes, trying to calm herself; when she opened them again Clint, Bucky, and Scott had migrated in to watch the proceedings and everyone was looking at her-mostly in amusement. Except for Vision, who was of course completely serious. _He didn't just say he came all this way to talk to me._ "What?"

He cleared his throat, though he obviously didn't mean to. "Mr. Stark and Colonel Rhodes suggested I find you so I could find some closure. I did not tell them where I was going or how to find you-and I don't plan to tell them, either. I did not come for them, or for the government. I...came for me. I came because...I missed you." The words sounded strange as he said them, as though he was unused to their taste on his tongue. "I missed the conversations we had. I missed the way you smiled whenever I could get you to laugh. I thought that when you left it wouldn't matter because you made your decision and I made mine...but it did matter. It made all the difference to me because I realized something that I should have realized a very long time ago. I wanted to be in your life not because you needed me, as I had once thought, but because I needed you far more than I thought I did. So I did the only thing I could do...and I understand if you do not see me the same way or if you would like me to go back. I will do so, willingly. I just wanted you to understand...and perhaps see if you felt the same way."

It was definitely the most human thing he had ever said; she'd give him that. As for exactly _what_ he had said...that was a different story. _Do we have to be having this conversation right now? In front of_

everybody? She felt blood rush up the back of her neck and for a minute she was seized with the urge just to run outside, rain or no rain, and not come back until the universe sorted itself out. Steve, bless his soul, just looked confused; Sam and Clint were watching the proceedings like it was some kind of soap opera-which, she supposed, was exactly what it was-and Scott just had a smug _I told you so_ expression plastered across his face.

Bucky was the only person who took it in stride and said "Well, we'll leave you to it." He headed back to the Monopoly board and reluctantly everyone else followed-although Scott needed to be practically grabbed by the arm and dragged around the corner. As soon as they were alone Wanda felt herself relax infinitesimally-at least until she realized she didn't have the faintest idea what she was supposed to say to a speech like that when she'd avoided thinking about her feelings for weeks because they were too painful.

"Vizh...that's very sweet of you to say but...I don't know. I just don't know. I don't know how I feel about...any of this, really. I'm still trying to come to terms with the Civil War...I'm sorry, I haven't spared a single thought to...us because I thought our paths had separated for good and it wasn't worth it…" She trailed off, suddenly out of words. She became all too aware of the way her heart was pounding and her blood was pulsing in her veins, white hot and slightly terrified. Everything had come to a head; the anxiety of the storm, the shock of seeing him there, the feelings his speech had stirred up that she couldn't quite name, Scott's expression, the stress of trying to say the right thing-

She felt Vision's hand on her forearm, slightly warm and extremely gentle as she looked up at him out of habit-and directly into his bright blue eyes that held far more wisdom than she could ever comprehend. He didn't need her, not when he had a brain like that and could learn everything there was to know with a single thought. But the fact remained that his touch quieted the voices in her head and slowed the beating of her heart. "I don't mind waiting...but I need to know now whether you would like me to stay or go."

She absolutely could not deal with this right now-but it looked like she had to anyway. "You can stay-for the night, at least. We'll talk again in the morning. I just have to think. I'm sorry." Before he could tell her that she didn't need to apologize or something equally noble like that she'd brushed past him, run past the game table, and bolted up the stairs to her closet, her ladder, and her room-where she climbed into her bed still in her regular clothes, pulled the duvet over her head, and wished the universe would just absorb her completely. She stayed that way for a good five or ten minutes, waiting to go back to normal. She'd never felt that out of control before, especially not about a boy. What was _happening_ to her?

If Pietro was here, Wanda knew he'd just laugh about the whole thing. _What am I supposed to do about this?_

Deciding to let the problem rest until morning, she changed and got ready for bed as quickly as she could before she turned off the light. Vision could wait until morning, until she could approach the problem more logically.

Even though she was exhausted, it took her a long time to fall asleep.

~A~

"What did she say?" Scott asked as Vision walked into the room and took a seat in Wanda's vacant chair. "She looked pretty upset when she ran upstairs."

"She told me I could stay for the night. Apparently, she needs time to think about what she feels," he replied, looking the closest thing to tired Clint had ever seen him. "Which is understandable, as I'm sure none of you were expecting me tonight."

"Nope. You fooled us all." Sam said, swearing loudly as he landed on Broadway-which Scott controlled-and had to fork over three quarters of what little money he had left.

"I can go try and talk to her." Clint said. He had little experience with romance, of course-but he could try at least.

"Don't bother." Bucky said. "I know girls-at least, I did, and I'm pretty sure they haven't changed _that_ much in the last century-and that's the last thing they want when they're trying to figure out their feelings." To Vision, he added "Just give her time. She's been through the wringer and love is probably the last thing on her mind. She'll come around."

"Who knew you were so good at giving dating advice?" Steve asked. Bucky through him a fake glare, as if to say _You know what, Rogers?_

"I mean, at least you came." Sam said, still talking to Vision after throwing his money disgustedly in Scott's general direction. "That counts for a lot-and hell, you brought her guitar. That'll get you points."

Vision sighed. "This is all very...uncomfortable. I feel as though I've made things worse, when my only intention was to make them better."

"Love is _always_ uncomfortable, even if you're not an android-but sometimes you can't help it, and the rewards always outweigh the risks. I'm sure we didn't help matters either-sorry-but we'll help however we can. Until then...try not to worry about it. Just give her time to figure things out."

He nodded. "I can definitely give her time." Clint had to say, he admired his dedication. He seemed like he was serious about it, too; Clint just hoped he wasn't setting himself up to get hurt.

But if he knew Wanda at all he was positive she wouldn't come back down tonight for anything short of an emergency-which meant they all still had a night to relax, come what may tomorrow morning. "Vision, do you want us to deal you in for the next game?" Scott controlled half the board-which meant the game was getting tedious for everyone else.

The android considered it for a minute before he nodded-another surprise; for as long as he'd known him, Vision had always remained carefully aloof when it came to human activities and games. But then again, the day couldn't possibly get any stranger than it already had. _Wait until Laura hears about this one._

 **I should probably say right off the bat that I'm not really well versed in Spider Man lore. I saw the** ** _Amazing Spider Man_** **movies a couple of years ago, but I've forgotten a lot of the particulars-to be honest, I didn't really like the character until I saw** ** _Civil War_** **and now he's one of my favorite characters! So I apologize for any inaccuracies; I don't really know how they'll introduce him in** ** _Homecoming,_** **so I did my best.**

 **Also, Natasha will be in the story. I know it's taken a very long time to introduce her, but she** ** _will_** **make an appearance in a couple chapters.**

 **Review, follow, and favorite! Thanks for reading!**


	8. Mind Games

**Sorry about the long wait. I was going to post this on Wednesday but it was Scarlet Vision appreciation day so I wrote a one shot for that instead. I can't promise an update over the weekend or even into next week either because I had exams, and as much as I would rather write I should probably study.**

 **Again, thank you for all the positive feedback :) You guys are amazing!**

 **Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

 **Enjoy!**

Wanda was up before the sun the next morning, but she didn't get up right away. Rather, she lay awake for as long as she could, listening to Vision rattle around in the kitchen below. He was obviously trying to make breakfast; pots would clang together every so often at random intervals and she could hear the sizzle of the griddle even all the way up here at the top of the house. He was making such a ruckus she was surprised no one else had gotten up yet; then again, she supposed they were probably up already-just waiting for her to get up first and patch things up with Vision.

She sighed softly as she got up, wincing slightly as the cold soaked into her bare feet. There was no use in putting it off any longer; besides, this was probably the last chance she was going to get without being swamped by people. And this was a conversation she wanted to have without the rest of the team hanging around and trying not to eavesdrop.

Just as she'd suspected Vision was in the kitchen making pancakes. He looked up as she approached and gave her a quick smile before he went back to examining the recipe he held in his hands carefully. "Good morning, Wanda."

"Good morning, Vizh. What are you making?"

He looked down at the griddle as if he'd forgotten what he was doing with it. "I'm making pancakes. I thought it would do wonders to ease the stress of the last few days."

"May I see them?" On closer inspection, she realized his 'pancakes' were terribly lumpy. "Are you sure they're supposed to be that lopsided?"

It could have been her imagination, but she thought he went even redder than usual. "I'll admit I may not have spread the batter evenly enough."

She resisted the urge to laugh. "That's an easy fix at least." She showed him how to smooth out his batter with the tip of the spatula and soon he was expertly flipping pancakes like a pro. "Do you make breakfast for Mr. Stark and Colonel Rhodes?"

His eyes darkened, just slightly. It only lasted for half a second, like a cloud bank passing over a usually sunny sky. "No. They don't usually have breakfast-or if they do, they go out. I'm afraid I haven't had much practice cooking."

"That's all right. You seem to be doing very well at it so far." She hopped up on the edge of the countertop and watched him put the pancakes on a plate to greet the first wave of early risers: Bucky, Steve, and Clint. "Did you mean everything you said last night?"

He glanced at her almost curiously. "Of course. What reason would I have to lie to you, Wanda?"

She shrugged. "I guess I don't know. It just seems like everyone else doesn't have a problem with it." She'd been lied to and manipulated all her life; this was the only instance she could remember where she wasn't sure whether it would be a good thing or a bad thing if he admitted he'd been telling her the truth.

"I wasn't lying. I meant it, every single word." Even though he didn't say it outright, the question hung heavy in the air between them: _Do you feel the same way?_

 _I don't know, Vizh. I don't think I know what love is anymore._ "Vision, because of everything that's happened-and because the circumstances aren't the best for a whirlwind romance-I don't...know how I feel. I don't know if I want to take that next step, and I know I don't want to hurt you or lead you on without realizing it. But if you'll let me...I'd still like to be friends. Maybe we can start there?"

He nodded instantly. "As you wish, Wanda."

"Thank you." She felt like a massive burden had been lifted off her shoulders as she smiled at the growing stack of pancakes rising in front of the griddle. "It looks like we're going to need some more plates."

~A~

Bucky awoke to the smell of pancakes and sizzling bacon-which confused him because he was almost always the breakfast go to. "What the hell?"

Not to mention the laughter coming from the kitchen. That was definitely new.

He practically stumbled down the stairs, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes to try and wake himself up. The nightmares had been bad again the night before and it seemed like he was just as tired now as when he'd gone to sleep the night before. He didn't want to tell Steve because it would just stress him out more, but he was fairly certain they were getting worse. Needless to say, he thought for a minute that he was just having a sleep-induced hallucination of Vision and Wanda making pancakes and chattering animatedly as they did so.

"Good morning!" Wanda said, handing him a plate of bacon and pancakes with a cup of orange juice (his personal favorite).

"Someone's unusually cheery this morning." He hated to agree with Scott about anything, really, but Wanda _did_ manage to give off that angsty teenage vibe most of the time. She just shot him a mock glare and went back to talking with Vision about some movie or other while he just watched in amused silence. How long would it take for them to officially become a thing? He'd seen a lot of happy couples over the years and he was definitely getting the same vibes from them.

"Wanda, I believe we're running low on batter." Vision said, eyeing the bowl critically. "Do you know where I can find more?"

Bucky laughed. "Are you trying to feed a small army? I don't think even I can eat that many pancakes."

"Regardless, flour is used in many staple American foods." Wanda replied. "Vizh, I think there's some in the pantry." She directed him downstairs and he went without complaint. "You look tired." she added, turning back to Bucky and honest-to-God _ruffling_ his hair like he was a lost puppy or something equally sappy. "Did you have a long night?"

"You could say that." He tried to hide his yawn but it didn't really work; and he didn't think he'd be able to blame the dark circles under his eyes on runny eyeliner either.

She just nodded, the word _nightmares_ hanging unspoken between them. They both had plenty of experience with that. "Have you told Steve?"

"I've been trying to save him the worst of it-and I'd be much obliged if you did too." She didn't say anything for a moment, just looked at him strangely. "What? Do I have something on my face?"

"No, it's not that. What if I told you that I think I may know of a way to help you?"

That threw him for a loop; it definitely wasn't the answer he was expecting. "What do you mean?"

"I may be able to help you...cope with your memories. I can help you work through them."

The implications sunk in immediately. "By going inside my head."

"...Yes. That's the draw."

"I'll think about it." Control over his memories and abilities was something he would absolutely kill to have-but the more he thought about letting an almost-stranger poke around inside his head, the more he began to worry for his sake and hers. "But I want to make sure you know what you'd be getting yourself into. My mind...isn't exactly a pretty place."

She smiled humorlessly, all buoyancy from her earlier mood completely gone. "Believe me, I've seen some bad places. I can take care of myself." He just smirked. _I'd be willing to bet you haven't seen anything quite like mine._

Just then Vision came back with the flour and they stopped talking, as if by some unspoken agreement. This was certainly not the conversation he wanted to have around anyone else, especially a robot that he still didn't trust for myriad reasons. Besides, Bucky felt he needed the time to mull over her proposition. He'd seen what Wanda could do, and how adept she was at using her powers. _Wouldn't it be nice to sleep through the night? To not flinch every time you hear the word 'longing'? If you could finally move on?_

Even so, he'd had enough people playing around in his head to last him a lifetime.

~A~

"Steve, how well do you trust Wanda?"

Steve nearly choked on his lemonade. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know. I mean, you've known her for a year now. What do you think about her? Is she a good kid?"

Steve looked at him like he worried Bucky was about to go berserk at any moment. To be honest, Bucky couldn't blame him; he wasn't really making sense, even to himself. But he hadn't been able to decide how best to breach the subject of mind control-except by inviting his oldest friend to sit outside and spring the news on him there. "Of course she's a good kid. You've met her. She's working through her problems-lots of guilt, just like you. Lost a brother after what happened in Sokovia. But...she does care about people and she tries too hard to make up for her mistakes. Why? Did something happen?"

"No, of course not." Steve would jump to conclusions too fast, with the safety of his team in mind; the last thing Bucky wanted was for Wanda to get in trouble unnecessarily. "I just...wondered. She says she can help me with the nightmares if she's able to look in my head."

Steve was quiet for a very long time. That was just one of the reasons Bucky appreciated him so much; he never said something without thinking it through first. "I think the person you should really be asking about this is yourself. After all, you're the one whose memories she's going to see."

"I just want your advice. Do you think it would help?"

He sighed. "Bucky, just how bad are your nightmares?"

He couldn't look at him. "Sometimes they're so bad I'm afraid to fall asleep. It's like whenever I close my eyes, they always come back-every person I ever killed, coming to haunt me. They never go away, no matter what I do-and believe me, I've tried everything: meditation, calming music, even painkillers."

"How often?"

"It used to be only once or twice a week...but they're becoming more and more frequent."

"Why don't you ever tell me?"

"I wouldn't want you to worry. You're too busy shouldering everyone else's problems, Steve. You shouldn't need to shoulder mine, too."

Steve rolled his eyes. "I'm your friend, Buck. I'm always going to shoulder your problems, whether you think I should or not. You're just as important as everyone else in there." He gestured back towards the cabin, where Sam and Scott were burning through some John Grisham books oblivious to the world around them. "And you deserve closure, especially after everything that's happened. It doesn't seem like there's any other way to get rid of what's happening...and I give Wanda my full vote of confidence, if you need it. She won't hurt you."

"What if I hurt her? What if...something goes wrong?" The possibility terrified him; just one wrong memory, just one trigger, could be enough to overwhelm the safeguards he'd put in place inside his head. They'd been so easily knocked down last time, and he'd been in a titanium cell.

"Want me to stay and watch?"

"I would prefer it if you still had your shield."

"Don't think I still couldn't take you in a fight if it came down to it. Remember, you're short a metal arm." Even so, the smirk was evident in his voice and Bucky found himself smiling too-in spite of all the reasons why he shouldn't be. "Just give me a time and place."

"I'll go ask her now-and I'm going to request treatment as soon as possible."

~A~

They managed to find a spare room in the basement to use as their makeshift 'lab'. At one point it had once been a storage room-but only a few plastic crates and mildewed cardboard boxes filled with old childrens' toys remained of what had been. Steve, Bucky, and Wanda put these to good use, making a makeshift circle in the center of the room while Sam stood guard at the top of the stairs in case anyone accidentally tried to interrupt. Even so, tensions were still running high; there was still a rather high margin of error, and it was making Bucky very uncomfortable.

"So, are you sure you know what you're going to do?" Steve asked Wanda, who seemed to be warming up. Red magic flickered in and out of existence, hovering in the air for a few seconds before being sucked back into her fingertips almost nervously.

She nodded. "Yes. Once I get inside, I'll be able to have a better understanding of what we're dealing with. My hope is that I can locate some...trouble spots and try to smooth them out a little bit. Soften the edges, if you will. It won't change anything, James, but...it will make them easier to think about."

He nodded, already bracing for the initial infiltration. "Call me Bucky."

"Steve, you're ready to interfere in case something goes wrong?"

"Affirmative."

"Okay." Wanda sighed as if to center herself and gently pressed a fingertip to the side of Bucky's forehead. "Whenever you're ready, Bucky."

"Go ahead."

He'd been expecting to feel some kind of pain as she entered his mind but instead he just felt his mind soften painlessly, allowing something warm to gently flow inside. His fingers curled into fists resting loosely on top of the box he was sitting on, being reminded all too forcefully of electric shocks and a series of words that had the power to change him from a man into a beast. To keep himself from going insane, he kept his eyes open-glancing from Wanda, whose hand still touched his forehead even though her eyes were closed; to Steve, who seemed to be saying _It's all right. She's not going to hurt you._

Then unconsciousness took over and everything went black.

~A~

Wanda was becoming much more adept at entering people's minds. Whereas before her powers had simply left her with a mess of conflicting images and sounds, now she saw everything with perfect clarity-and she knew precisely how to scroll through Bucky's many memories on display, spread out before her like a card catalogue. Nimbly she passed through memory after memory of two little boys, one with light hair and one with dark hair, playing stickball in the streets, sneaking into the movie theatre to watch two movies for the price of one, and riding the Cyclone at Coney Island until they both threw up. They were innocent memories; nothing she needed to tamper with.

Until everything changed one winter day-when the dark haired boy, now a grown man, fell off a train in the middle of the snowy mountains. He thought he was a dead man-and by the time he realized what his rescuers planned to do with him, he wished he was. His regret and fear were so acute it hurt; she softened it at the edges, like covering it in a layer of soft snowfall, to keep it from consuming him-and her too

To some degree, she felt his pain; she felt the electricity the Hydra scientists used every day without fail to break him, manipulate him, and bend him to their will. She felt his fear as he lost his identity, realizing with every passing day that he was becoming less and less James Buchanan Barnes and more and more something...different. A cold, hard killer who could be controlled just like a vicious dog, with a few simple words.

She went with him on every training exercise: every practice run in the freezing cold until he was so tired he could only kneel on the ground and heave when he was finished, every target practice, and every mission. She watched every murder-every man, woman, and child-and banished the ghosts. Some victims were easier than others; some of them threatened to drag her in too, if she wasn't careful. But she carried on as best she could, never hiding or manipulating anything but rather dulling down the regret and rage that seemed to accompany every killing-when he was back in cryofreeze and had time to realize, however short that time happened to be, what he'd done-until it was something manageable.

Years passed. Wars were fought, won, or lost. Winter melted into spring, which turned into summer, which slid through autumn to freeze gradually into winter again. Sometimes the Winter Soldier was needed, sometimes he wasn't. Sometimes he spent ten or twenty years at a time locked in catatonic stasis, dreaming terrible dreams and praying for a respite that never came. The Berlin Wall went up and then came down. Entertainers lived and died, presidents were elected or shot.

He killed one. Not directly, but he was involved.

And every time he woke up he worried more and more that the Bucky he'd known once, the man he'd been way back in World War Two, would never come back. He worried the Winter Soldier had done too many things, had ripped apart the good man he had once been until there was no hope of reclaiming him.

She read every single notebook entry in every single book, watching a broken man struggling to reclaim his last pieces of identity.

She stood and watched on December 16th, 1991, as a motorcycle crash sowed the first seeds of destruction for everything she knew and loved. That was the hardest of all to mask; the potency of the hurt and regret he felt were enough to nearly make her physically ill. But she did the best she could; she knew she was the only hope he had of taking at least some of his burden off his shoulders.

She watched Bucky break and rebuild, again and again. She lived his pain-lived his life-all in the span of ten minutes.

She didn't realize she was crying until she gently eased herself back out of his mind and back into her own, waking up once again in the basement of a strange house, having just done something that a few months ago she would have claimed was impossible. Steve asked if she was all right and she tried to nod, because she really _was_ okay. She hadn't been harmed and she was sure she hadn't harmed her subject; she wasn't sure if she was crying for the boy who had been killed a little bit more with each mission or the man who had to carry all of their ghosts. She certainly knew what it was like to feel responsible-the eleven deaths in Lagos kept her up at night and thoughts of Pietro made her smile falter in the daylight-but she'd never felt guilt like that before, where there was so much of it that it pressed down on her chest until she could barely breathe. She hoped she never had to.

Bucky woke up a few minutes later, just as disoriented and confused as she felt. "What happened? Did it-" All of a sudden, his eyebrows furrowed-as if realizing that something felt different. "Why does it feel...lighter?"

"I...softened the memories." she replied. "At least, that was my intention. Did it work?"

"...Yeah. It worked. I think." For the first time, he seemed to notice she still had tears in her eyes. "How much did you see?"

She couldn't look at him. "All of it. I had to, there were so many danger spots. I'm sorry."

He just shook his head. "You shouldn't have seen that. You shouldn't _need_ to see that. I should have said no to this, it was a bad idea-" He turned to leave, probably feeling just as desperate for space as she did.

"But...it helped you?"

He spun back around. "What?"

"The ghosts...they don't follow you around anymore, do they?"

He thought about that for a second. "I feel like I'm able to stand up straight for the first time in twenty years...so no, I guess not."

"Then it was worth it."

"There's a lot I still have to work through...a lot of people who are never going to be able to forgive me." _Tony._

"I can't change the truth, Bucky. All I can do is soften the blow."

He stood there for a minute, staring at the ground. She could practically see the gears turning inside his head, even though she didn't go back inside. The mind was a sacred space, off limits to her unless she had express permission-and even if someone did give her permission to sift through their memories, it still felt...wrong to her, like she was doing something she shouldn't be.

With every mind she manipulated, she felt she took a little piece of that person away with her. And that terrified her, quite frankly.

Suddenly, he spoke again. "Thank you." He gave her a quick hug-a little rough, perhaps, but the meaning was still clear-and left the room, leaving behind two words that meant everything.

"I'd better go after him." Steve said. He'd been so quiet during the whole exchange that she'd nearly forgotten he was there at all. "You know, what you did for him...I really think it was a good thing. He needs closure. Anything that can help him get there…"

"I just did what I could. The rest he'll have to do himself."

He nodded. "Thanks, Wanda. Are you coming back upstairs?"

"Not yet. I...need a little time." Thankfully he didn't pry; he just headed upstairs and left the door open for her on his way out.

She sat very still for a very long time, waiting for the feeling to pass. Going inside the head of an enemy was one thing; going inside the head of a friend was quite another. She just hoped she'd done enough.

~A~

Bucky didn't have nightmares that night. Or the night after. They still came, of course; he hadn't expected that to change-but they weren't as bad. He could handle them with a cup of tea or occasionally strong coffee and a couple of hours watching home improvement shows. In a way, he felt freed. He felt like himself again, at least a little bit.

Maybe one day he could figure out who Bucky Barnes was supposed to be in this bright new century. Maybe he could still have a future.

And maybe this time, he didn't have to rediscover who he was all alone. After all, he had a whole team of people at his back.

 **Review, follow, and favorite! Thanks for reading!**


	9. Birthday

**Hi! :) Sorry about the late update (again)-my school is out for the summer in two days and I've had tests for most of week so I've been studying. But after tomorrow I'll be on summer vacation and I'll have plenty of time to write-and hopefully I'll be able to update quicker.**

 **This story has passed 150 follows! You guys are amazing!**

 **Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

 **Enjoy!**

Living with Team Cap was about as far from living in the Avengers compound with what remained of Team Iron Man as it was possible to be. Whereas the compound was always quiet, as though something had been irreparably broken and it would be sacrilege to so much as laugh or smile, everyone seemed to be happy at the cabin-or at least trying to. As for what the members of Team Cap really felt, Vision wasn't too sure; in a way, they were hiding their emotions under a facade in a way Tony Stark never bothered to. But they were making the best out of their circumstances in whatever ways they could and he admired them for that. They were forever playing games, watching movies, or just sitting around talking about anything and everything they could possibly think of. They acted more like a family than a team, despite their circumstances.

Of course, stress was still running high-and there was still the constant fear that they would be found again by the government and arrested. Tensions frayed and sometimes snapped altogether. There were arguments about exactly what the Avengers were supposed to be doing-and the team got more and more stir crazy with every week that went by

Sometimes, Vision was surprised everyone made it through the day in one piece.

They always acted happy the best they could-even when it was clear they were anything but. Bouts of depression weren't infrequent; nightmares happened even more often. Most nights he would end up watching TV with someone at an ungodly hour, fending off the nightmares; everyone on the team had them, even Scott. But at least they tried. They were there for each other, through the good days, the bad days, and the days when all anyone really felt like doing was looking out the window at the outdoors almost longingly. Other than Clint's hunting trips, they almost never went outside for safety reasons.

Weeks passed. The media remained quiet. They settled into a routine-not an exciting one, to be sure, but a routine nonetheless. Every second Tuesday, Sam would head to the library (incognito and under a fake name, of course) to pick up books for everyone else (they read a lot). Sometimes they would have picnics in a sunny glade not far from the cabin, weather permitting. They trained as much as they could, sometimes outdoors and sometimes in the basement. At least one television was on and tuned to CNN at all times, waiting to hear just the tiniest mention of the team of fugitives. But they were never mentioned; their memory seemed to flicker and die as the weeks went by and eventually they became old news, passed up on for the next biggest story. No one minded.

May slipped into June, drawing near July. The temperature climbed until the air in the cabin was hot and sticky; they had to keep the fans running in every room just to keep things tolerable. Training sessions in the basement became nearly unbearable, especially for Steve, Bucky, and Sam who exercised constantly-Steve because he found it a nice way to relax and the other two because they wanted to outdo each other. Clint gave Wanda guitar lessons nearly every night, constantly printing out PDFs of new sheet music they could pore over together for hours. Vision would almost always listen to them play, Clint's low voice giving instructions following him long into the night.

Bucky was the first one to bring up Steve's impending birthday on July 4th-his 98th. "We should probably do something nice for him. After all, he's saved us more times than we can count."

Clint nodded. "Of course-but it's not like we have many things at our disposal." He raised a hand as if to gesture at the cramped cabin around them: the faded floral wallpaper, the dent in the kitchen table someone had obviously tried to paint over. It didn't look anything like the Avengers base, or even Avengers Tower; worst of all, it wasn't like they could go out and buy party decorations to spruce the place up.

Bucky glanced around the room with a small smile on his face and Vision could almost see the gears in his head turning as he thought up a solution. "That's all right. We never really had much to begin with. I'm sure I can figure something out-but I'm going to need help."

Vision glanced around at everyone seated around the kitchen table, even so late at night-they'd had to stay up extraordinarily late to ensure Steve wouldn't be up. There were Clint and Sam, propped forward on their elbows as if they were already ready to contribute ideas of their own. Scott was yawning quietly but still looked more than intrigued and Wanda also seemed excited. "I believe I speak for all of us when I say that we will do everything we can to aid you, Sergeant Barnes."

Bucky smirked, pouring himself another cup of coffee and pulling out a worn blue notebook, opening it to a fresh page. "Just Bucky is fine, Vizh. Now, let's see what we can come up with…"

~A~

The morning of July 4th dawned bright, sunny, and sticky-the fifth day in a massive heat wave, with temperatures reaching the upper 90s. Steve found the heat oppressive as soon as he woke up; reluctantly, he left the comfort of his bed to turn on one of the fans Clint had dug out of the basement. It took him a few minutes to remember what day it was; all the days in the cabin seemed to blend into one long and monotonous stretch of time and he'd quickly lost track. And yet somehow, the fact that he was another year older didn't really excite him much one way or the other; there wasn't a good way to celebrate and he didn't want the others going all out when it wasn't worth it.

Then he realized the whole house smelled strongly of bacon at six in the morning. That's new. Vision didn't usually make breakfast unless someone else was up to help him and Steve was the only one who ever got up before seven. So, of course, his head strayed to the worst case scenario: the UN had found them and they were about to be arrested. But...if the UN was here, wouldn't they have made at least some noise when they broke in? And why were they making bacon?

He opened the door cautiously, expecting anything from a firing squad to an overly excited (and possibly drunk) Scott. "What's going on-"

Almost immediately, a bucket of painstakingly cut paper confetti cascaded down around his head; he had to duck quickly to the left to avoid being hit with a red plastic bucket. "Happy birthday!" Scott yelled, rushing out of the bathroom with half of his face shaved and nearly giving Steve a heart attack.

"What's going on?" Steve asked, attempting to regain control of the situation and shake confetti out of his blond hair at the same time.

"It's birthday confetti. Because it's your birthday." Scott said, as if he was trying to explain something to his young daughter. "Right?"

"Yeah it's my birthday but isn't this a little...much?" Confetti covered the soft white carpeting; someone was going to have to clean it up later and that someone was not going to be him.

"Of course not. You're Captain America-what, did you think we weren't going to celebrate or something stupid like that?" Scott grabbed his elbow and practically dragged him downstairs. "Come on-breakfast should almost be ready." Before Steve could protest he was pulled into the kitchen, where Scott loudly proclaimed "Look who finally decided to get up!"

"Happy birthday, Steve!" Bucky said with a smile, handing him a plate of food. Steve barely had a second to take in the fact that everyone was not only up, alert, and sitting around the table but ready to eat as well. Someone-probably Bucky-had made all of his favorites-eggs, bacon, toast, pancakes, and hashbrowns. Someone else-probably Wanda-had managed to make crepes that oozed chocolate and a fruit bowl had been arranged in the center of the table, covered in watermelon, pineapple, and cantaloupe. It looked...delicious.

"Wow-when did you guys have time to make all of this?" Steve took his usual seat at the head of the table, trying a bite of pancake saturated with maple syrup and nodding appreciatively. "It looks delicious."

"We've been up since 4:30." Clint replied. "Figured you might want something a little out of the ordinary for your birthday breakfast."

"Well, it hits the spot. Thanks, guys."

"No problem." Sam replied. "Just because we're on the run didn't mean we forgot it was your birthday today-and ninety eight is a pretty big deal, Cap."

Unable to resist the chance, Steve added "Talk to Bucky. He turned ninety nine back in March."

Bucky shrugged. "Hey, don't try to shift the focus. Today's your day, Steve-and we'll spend the day however you want to spend it."

"We called Sharon." Sam added. "She said she'll try to stop by later if she can, but she wishes you a happy birthday just in case she can't." Steve tried not to show how his heart jumped when he heard the news, even though it shouldn't have.

"Good. I suppose we'll have to entertain ourselves until she can get here…" He grabbed a crepe to cover the fact that he didn't have any idea what they should do instead; it was perfectly made and melted in his mouth as soon as he bit down. "Wanda, the pastry is amazing!"

She blushed, sitting back a little farther in her chair. "It was nothing, really. Vizh helped."

"Well, you both did a fantastic job. I'll have to start requesting them more often." She beamed and he turned back to the matter at hand. "I suppose I could force you all to watch It Happened One Night." He'd fought for months back at the compound to get it on their weekly movie night list, but someone (probably Natasha, the more that he thought about it) kept taking it down.

Bucky's grin faded a few notches but he shook his head good naturedly and said "If that's what you want, pal."

As they finished up their meals, with banter flying thick and fast between Sam and Scott, Clint cutting in every so often to make a point; Steve couldn't help wondering exactly how he'd managed to get stuck with such a good group of people. Not everyone would be willing to follow him directly into harm's way, against government regulations, and straight into prison. Not everyone would forgive him for destroying their previous friendships with the members of the other team, or not resent him because they could no longer see their families. Not everyone would get up at five in the morning to make sure he didn't think anyone had forgotten his birthday.

He didn't deserve their allegiance or their loyalty, but he'd gotten it anyway-and never once had they let him down. Even Vision, who had insisted he would only be staying for a few days, had stayed far longer than that-although Steve suspected that had more to do with his feeling about Wanda rather than any loyalty he might have felt towards Captain America. He didn't deserve the team he had, but here they were-being as normal as they could in a world that had decided it didn't need them anymore and they found they couldn't fit in anywhere else.

He was struck anew with the quick, certain knowledge that no matter what happened he couldn't let them down.

~A~

The rest of the day seemed to pass in a happy blur. The temperature climbed past 100 degrees for part of the day before settling back at 96 around 4:00-not that the Avengers would realize it, given that they spent most of the day inside either watching movies or sharing stories. Bucky and Steve took turns talking about growing up in Brooklyn, New York, during the Great Depression; how they used to go to the public beaches every other weekend using what little spending money they got for doing the paper and how they'd ridden the Cyclone at Coney Island again and again until they threw up. Clint volunteered a couple of stories about his days as a circus performer-although he declined Scott's query for him to demonstrate some tricks. Sam and Scott's testimonies were more normal; even though they'd grown up on separate sides of the country they still shared a lot of the same experiences and had very similar childhoods. The only ones who didn't talk much were Wanda and Vision; Vision had no childhood to recall and Wanda didn't seem to want to talk about hers.

The time seemed to fly by and all too soon the sun was setting, taking with it the scorching heat of the daylight hours. Worn out from hours of conversation they ate cold pizza for dinner, watching reruns of Game of Thrones and Veep on Scott's HBO go in companionable silence.

At least until there was a knock on the door.

In the weeks since Vision's untimely arrival, the team had realized that if you went up the back staircase and out of the kitchen, climbing to the second level and rounding to the front of the house, you could quite easily see visitors before they could see you. Sam utilized this tool now, scampering up the staircase, letting out a long whistle, and sprinting back down again. "It's Sharon. Want me to let her in?"

Steve practically jumped to his feet, an action that didn't go unnoticed by the rest of his team. "Allow me."

Sharon was waiting patiently on the doorstep in a yellow tank top and black pants; she smiled brightly at Steve as he ushered her inside. "Hey, soldier. Long time no see."

"Hey yourself. Are you sure you weren't followed?" They could never be too careful.

She nodded. "I checked the car over myself. I'm clean." She surveyed the cabin carefully-eyes skipping over Bucky's hoodie hanging on one of the front coat hooks and catching on Wanda's drawings that Clint had taped up on every available inch of wall space. "Looks like you guys have been doing pretty well."

He shrugged. "We're handling it. Some days are better than others."

"Do you watch the news? You guys are hardly ever mentioned these days. You must be doing something right."

He nodded, eyes straying up from the floor before he realized what was happening; Sharon laughed when she met his eyes and he could only imagine what he looked like-blushing like a school boy, more likely than not. Even after all this time, Rogers, your tact with girls has improved only slightly. "Sorry. It's just good to see you again. I've missed you, Sharon-and I don't believe we ever got that coffee."

"Come to think of it, I don't think we did. Unfortunately, it'll have to wait. I can't stay longer than a night; I'm on leave from Berlin and my plane takes off tomorrow." She looked sincerely apologetic at having to cancel yet again, but Steve understood. They'd all had to make sacrifices-some people just had to make more than others.

"That's all right. We still have tonight."

"Yeah. Hey, what are the odds that Captain America was born on July 4th? Doesn't that seem...I don't know, weird to you or something?"

"It provides quite a lot of fodder for teasing, if that's what you mean." Sam still wouldn't let him live it down-neither would Bucky, for that matter. "But you're probably hungry. Come on-I'm sure the others would love to see you, and there's still some leftover pizza if you want it. That is, if Scott hasn't eaten it already." She laughed as she followed him into the den, where the others were talking quietly amongst themselves in a decidedly suspicious way; honestly, Steve wouldn't have been surprised to find they'd been eavesdropping the entire time.

"You must be Sharon Carter." Clint said before proper introductions could be made, shaking her hand. "Clint Barton-alias Hawkeye."

"Yeah, I kind of guessed. I suppose I never got to thank you for the Battle of New York-the footage I've seen of you in action is quite impressive." Sharon replied gamely, looking around at the others. "Sam, Bucky, I know you…" They nodded in acknowledgement as her gaze turned to Scott. "I don't know you. It's Scott Lang, right?"

Scott grinned. "Right. Ant Man himself, at your service."

"So you must be Vision." Vision nodded in acknowledgement. "Which means you're Wanda Maximoff."

"That's right." Wanda replied. "I don't think we've ever been properly introduced."

"I don't think so-although I'm so sorry about the arrangements. It can't be easy, living with all the boys."

She smirked. "They're not so bad-all of the time, at least."

"What are things like back at SHIELD?" Sam cut in, before that conversation could go anywhere else.

"The same as always-although your disappearance caused quite the stir. We all had to pull extra hours searching for you-though I'm proud to say, we never did. The Bartons, Paxtons, and Van Dynes were all questioned as well-though they claimed deniability." Clint and Scott seemed to tense up at the names of their families but relaxed just as quickly. "And I think you'll be happy to know you're not top priority anymore."

"What about Romanoff?" Clint asked, trying to disguise the concern in his voice. "She checked in yet?"

"She's been on the run too, ever since Leipzig. That search stopped almost before it began; she's one of the best spies in the business. If she doesn't want to be found, she isn't going to be found." She glanced at the TV and did a quick double take. "Is that Game of Thrones?"

"Yup. Want to watch?"

"How did you get HBO all the way out here? I didn't think this house's previous owners knew what HBO is."

Scott laughed. "We're using my account. The perks of having a cat burglar on staff, ma'am."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Sharon, want to help me make some popcorn?"

"Sure." They went into the kitchen, shutting the door between them and the living room so they could have at least some semblance of privacy. "Nice little crew you've got out there."

"Yeah, well-they're great people, and we make it work." He set about grabbing the popcorn mix out of the cabinet and letting it heat up on the stove, watching it casually as it popped. "How long was your break?"

"A week. I've been visiting some girl friends in New York City for a few days; it's so nice to be in an English speaking country again. I mean, I adore Berlin don't get me wrong...but there's no place like home, you know?"

"Yeah, I know." Thanks to me, five people might never be able to go home again.

She sighed. "Steve, how long do you think you can keep this up?" She swung her hand, though whether she was trying to indicate the popcorn or the house at large Steve wasn't quite sure. "I mean, sooner or later...if even one rumor slips out, they'll be all over here. Please tell me you have somewhere else to go."

"We'll make it work. It's not like we have many other choices-and it's been working well so far."

"The UN could forgive you if you come back-level a few fines, maybe serve a couple of months jail time...but then things could go back to normal. The Avengers would be reinstated, you could stop living with a target on your backs-"

"Would we? Sharon, for us...I don't think there ever was a normal. If we go back...it's just like admitting defeat. We give into what the UN wants now, what are they going to make us do in the future? Who are we going to have to hurt? I'm not going to do it-and I'm not going to put anyone else on my team in that position either. If we go back it's because the world needs us-not because we're being forced to at gunpoint. I don't know how long we're going to be living like this and I don't know how long this respite is going to last...but I have to try. I owe it to them. Every single person in that room risked...everything because I asked them to. I'm doing what I think is going to keep us safe-and I will not let the government control us. You said it yourself-where you can't compromise, don't." He couldn't stop thinking about how the team had looked when he'd come to rescue them; how Sam's eyes had been dull at first, how Wanda wouldn't even look at him for fear of setting off the shock collar. They'd put a shock collar on her, a human being, even though she hadn't been making any kind of trouble. He still saw the bruises on her arms sometimes from the straitjacket-and he wouldn't let that happen again."

"I know-and you know I support you, whatever you decide. I'll cover for you for as long as I need to. I just want to be sure you know what you're doing. I know you're doing the best you can, and I know this must seem...impossible. I guess I just want to make sure you're looking out for yourself too."

"We look out for each other."

They sat in silence for a couple of minutes, as the popcorn popped and crisped in its pan. "So, why's Vision here? Last I heard Stark told me he was in Alaska clearing his head."

Steve smirked. "I don't know. He just showed up here a few weeks ago looking for Wanda...and she hasn't told him to leave yet."

"Are they a thing yet?"

"I don't know." He made a point not to get involved with the romantic lives of his teammates; he knew that Clint had a wife, Scott had a girlfriend, and Sam liked to scour online dating websites with no intent to date anybody. As to what was going on between Wanda and Vision...he had no idea. Clint had quite a few, of course, but Steve was trying to let them work through whatever it was themselves. "Sometimes it looks that way."

"They're cute together, don't you think?"

"Yeah."

More silence.

"You know, I really am sorry I have to cancel on the coffee. My next break is in mid September; can we try again then?"

Steve had to smile at that, turning off the burner and pouring the only (slightly) burned popcorn into a metal bowl for the team to peruse. "Sounds great, Sharon. Let's make it a date."

"Good. And...happy birthday, Steve. I...picked something up for you when I was in town." She handed him a small bag, which he quickly opened to reveal a new watch-it was high quality, plated in what looked like real gold. "It's got a couple of tricks up its sleeve in case of an emergency. I hear you don't have your shield anymore."

"Thanks, Sharon-but I can take care of myself, you know. Even so...I love it." He slipped it on carefully; they both admired the way it sparkled in the low, almost harsh lighting of the kitchen. "And you didn't have to buy me anything. Just showing up was quite enough."

~A~

Steve suggested a concert before he turned in for the night, and everyone agreed with him because it was, in fact, his birthday. Wanda didn't find it worth arguing about, so she reluctantly went and got her guitar-along with a few of her favorite pieces. Now that she and Clint had nothing better to do, she got to practice her guitar as often as she wanted to for as long as she wanted to; it helped her immensely to know that she still had it, even after all of this time and everything that had happened.

Of course, she wouldn't have it at all if it weren't for Vision.

She played a few songs to uproarious applause before she handed the violin to Clint and instructed him to play something. Even though he looked surprised he recovered quickly, playing a couple of alternative rock songs-and even a classical song for Steve-before he turned the tables back on her in retaliation. "I'm playing a slow song, if anyone wants to dance."

Steve pulled Sharon to her feet, while Sam and Scott cleared away assorted pieces of furniture.

Before she could tell him all the reasons why this would not be a good idea, the decision was made for her. Vision asked her.

She allowed herself to be led out to their makeshift dance floor, biting her lip once she realized she hadn't slow danced in years and she barely remembered what to do. "Do you even know how to dance?" she whispered, squeezing his hand a little more tightly before she realized what she was doing.

"I don't know. I've been reading up on it recently, but I can't say I've ever really tried it to music before. I don't believe it will matter either way though; we're among friends, Wanda. They aren't expecting anything special."

She contemplated trying to explain the concept of embarrassment to him but eventually decided it wasn't worth it. Besides, Clint had finished warming up and looked ready to begin. It'll be fine. What's the worst that can happen.

The song Clint started singing was unfamiliar to her but she had the strange feeling she'd heard it before-maybe in a store in a movie. The archer actually had a very good voice, quietly singing "Wise men say only fools rush in, but I can't help falling in love with you."

For a few minutes neither Wanda nor Vision could figure out exactly what they were supposed to be doing so they watched Sharon and Steve instead, who of course knew how to dance and looked extremely happy. Hesitantly, Vision began to copy Steve's footwork-it was a very easy dance and it didn't take long to get the hang of it. Wanda kept pace, looking down at her feet more than she looked at her partner.

"Shall I stay?

Would it be a sin?

If I can't help falling in love with you."

Vision obviously had a natural ability for dancing, catching on almost immediately and leading her through the steps whenever she faltered. She began to stop worrying about keeping the beat in her head; it was obvious in the song, and he kept it for her in case she ever lost track. They made an odd pair, struggling to get through the dance with some semblance of grace...but Wanda had to admit she didn't hate it as much as she thought she would. The last boy she could remember dancing with had been named Noah Simon, at a Mayday party when she was twelve years old. All she could remember of that dance were how nervous they'd been and how he kept stepping on her feet and having to apologize. Vizh, however, was nothing like that.

In fact, she was even beginning to realize that she liked it. Liked him too, by extension.

'Like a river flows

Surely to the sea

Darling so it goes

Some things are meant to be."

"You know, I'm glad you came back." she whispered as they spun away from the rest of the group-Wanda didn't know what they looked like and she wasn't about to look now. And it wasn't a lie either; she never needed to pretend around Vision. She could be herself, always, and usually she didn't have a choice-he would see right through any lies she tried to give him. In a world where it seemed like everyone wanted her to be something, that freedom was a sweet relief.

"I'm glad I returned as well." he replied, smiling in the dim light cast by lamps on either side of the room. "I thought that it wouldn't matter...that once we had made our own choices, it wouldn't matter-"

"But it ended up mattering a lot." Wanda finished. "Illogical." She finally got him to laugh, which made her smile as well.

"Take my hand

Take my whole life too

For I can't help falling in love with you."

She knew what everyone thought-how they were going to have some epic love story and cross human/android boundaries that had never been crossed before-and there were times when she wondered about it herself. Yes, she hadn't seen eye to eye with him a few months previously...but then he'd come all this way to find her and he hadn't left yet. Even so...she still didn't know if she loved him. She wasn't sure if she could love him; she wasn't sure she would know what love was even if she did. She'd never really been in a real relationship before; sure, she'd allowed Pietro to set her up with a few guys over the years so they could double date...but that had never really felt like anything meaningful. It didn't feel like how it felt when she was around Vizh-how bonds of friendship and trust ran so deep she could always sense them. She didn't want to sacrifice all of that for the sake of romance…

...even though, as the days passed, she wondered more and more if she was falling for him, too. "I still need to teach you to make paprikash, don't I?"

"I suppose so. I'll try to use paprika this time."

"That's a good place to start."

His skin was so warm where he touched her arm. She'd always thought that it would be metallic and cold, but in reality that was completely false: he practically radiated a human warmth that made her forget he wasn't really human at all. "This is nice, isn't it?" he added as they danced, music soft in the background. "You're a beautiful dancer."

"Thank you. So are you." There was a moment of expectant silence between them, as if the universe was waiting for them to say something more, but nothing happened. She suspected that neither wanted to ruin the moment by saying the wrong thing. That seemed to be a large part of their relationship at this point; knowing they were in a good place but not wanting to take things farther for fear of messing things up and destroying all of the foundations they'd worked so hard to build.

Finally Clint stopped playing and they reluctantly came to a halt. Bucky, Sam, and Scott were applauding for all of the dancers; Steve and Sharon took their seats again looked flushed but happy and Wanda felt Vision squeeze her hand gently as he led them back to the couch so she could take her guitar back from Clint before he could embarrass her further. She knew she was blushing so she kept her head down and hoped no one would give her a hard time about it. Maybe as a testament to the way they'd grown to care for each other during the months of their isolation, no one brought it up-though she was sure if they'd been at the Avengers base some months earlier Sam would have wasted no time in joking about it.

They really were the closest thing to a family she'd had in years.

"Did you have a good time?" Clint asked

She just rolled her eyes. "That wasn't nice of you."

"You guys looked like you could use a little time together. Hey, you looked happy out there though. He couldn't take his eyes off you."

Suddenly there was a loud crash outside and she instantly tensed, sure that it was an explosion and they'd finally been discovered. Three more followed in rapid succession, seeming to rattle the house on its very foundation.

But Sam was already laughing. "I guess we should have remembered it was the Fourth of July. I bet if we go into the forest a ways we'll have a great view." Everyone followed him outside, following the sounds of explosions until they reached an open clearing with a view of the starry, starry night sky. Fireworks burst into circles of red, green, yellow, and blue-arcing high above their heads and exploding with a thunderous bang like a beautiful shelling.

Wanda couldn't help noticing how Vision took her hand and pulled her a little closer as they stood in rapt silence and watched the spectacle unfold.

~A~

Back at the cabin presents were exchanged. Steve was surprised to find that someone-probably Sam-had been able to go shopping for him; he got a handful of books he'd been wanting to read, a new sketchbook and set of charcoal pencils, and a copy of his own action figure (from Scott, of course). By the time Wanda cut the cake she'd made that afternoon, Sharon said her goodbyes (with promises to text every other day at least), and the living room was finally back in order it was almost one in the morning and most of the team decided to turn in.

"So what did you think, Steve?" Bucky asked as they went upstairs. Wanda and Clint were already getting ready, Vision was reading one of Steve's new books in a chair in the den under a circle of warm lamplight-looking for all the world like one of those old fashioned butlers-and Sam and Scott were arguing over who could eat the most frosting without getting ill. "I know it wasn't much, but-"

"It was perfect, Buck." And it was true; his birthday had been everything he'd hoped it would be and a few things he hadn't even thought to hope for. "I mean it. You and the others did a great job."

"Yeah, well. You're our captain. And you deserve some nice things too." He glanced at the closed bathroom door. "Dammit. If Wanda's in there, there's absolutely no way I'm getting a shower tonight." He ran the rest of the way to the landing, calling a haphazard "Happy birthday, Steve!" over his shoulder.

Steve shook his head ruefully. Yes, this was his team. This was where they were: on the run in the middle of nowhere with no real end in sight. And even so, he knew from experience that things could be far, far worse.

For a wanted fugitive who'd made one of the biggest mistakes of his entire life-and lost one of his closest friends in the process-he was pretty lucky. He didn't ask for their loyalty and dedication but they'd given it to him fully and wholeheartedly, no strings attached. And hopefully, he'd have a chance to right his own wrongs.

But for now, in this little cabin in the middle of nowhere, things weren't so bad.

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	10. Stars

**Sorry about the wait! I planned to upload this yesterday but ran out of time. I'm officially on summer vacation though, which means I should be able to update a little more regularly as I'll have more time to write!**

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 **Enjoy!**

It was a hot, sticky day in July when Tony decided he'd finally had enough.

It had been weeks since Vision had left to go find Team Cap; Tony could only assume he'd found them and had decided not to come back. Honestly, he couldn't blame the guy; he'd be the first one to say he knew what it was like to be enticed by a woman. He just hoped things wouldn't turn out badly for him in the end; he knew firsthand just how much love could hurt-especially real love, not one night stands.

But maybe there was something he could do to change that.

Tony didn't consider himself a nervous person. Really, he was more the type to just charge into situations without thinking in the least about what he was going to do and how it might turn out for him-which was, he supposed, how he got himself into so much trouble in the first place. And yet, as he stood holding his cell phone in his hands with his right index finger hovering over the CALL button next to Pepper's name, he found himself hesitating-wondering if she even wanted to talk to him anymore. Wondering if they could repair things or if he was too late. It had never mattered to him what a woman thought of him before-for most of his life, he'd been able to be confident in his good looks and winning personality. But Pepper was different-she could see through all of his disguises and easily chip away at all the facades he used to make the world think he was better than he actually was. He couldn't fool her like he could fool everyone else-and the last thing he wanted was for her to know how scared he was of losing her for good.

 _Get ahold of yourself, Tony._ He hated when his sentimental teenager self, the one he'd almost managed to crush out of his system but hadn't quite succeeded at yet, decided to make an appearance right when it was most inopportune. It really clashed with the whole playboy-don't-give-a-damn vibe he liked to project. He pressed the button before he could convince himself not to.

The phone rang once...twice...three times...and then he heard the telltale click on the other end of the line as somebody picked up. "Tony?" Pepper asked, probably wondering why he was calling her at 10:00 in the morning when they both should be at work. "Is something wrong?"

"Yes...no...I mean, do you have a minute? Maybe to get coffee or something? FRIDAY makes some mean Earl Grey."

She sighed in annoyance, that sigh he'd grown to know and love over the years. "Tony, I'm supposed to be running your company."

"Yeah, and it's my company. I can exempt you for a couple of hours and no one will dock your pay." He could sense that she was still hesitant so he added "I know we're not technically...together anymore, but...I've missed you, Pep. And I could really use your company right about now."

He heard her check her calendar. "I think I can pencil you in. What time do you want me to come over?"

He was tempted to tell her to catch the first subway she could but quickly realized he hadn't changed out of his pajamas. "Can you be here in fifteen?"

"Okay. See you then." The phone clicked off. Her tone had been expressionless; he couldn't tell if she'd decided to come because she was happy about it or because she felt some kind of obligation to him because he was her boss.

He wished he could tell her that she didn't have any obligations to him; in fact, maybe he was the one who had obligations to her. After all, wasn't she the one who had contributed in no small part to making him not an asshole anymore? At least, not as big of an asshole? And hadn't she put up with more stupid ideas, more ridiculous projects, more panic attacks, more drunk nights, than anyone else he'd ever known? But he couldn't take his own advice; not when he worried it might cost him everything again. Then again, he supposed it really didn't matter. He'd lost nearly everyone already: Romanoff, Barton, Vision, Banner... _Rogers._

Nope. His brain was a Steve Rogers free zone. As far as he was concerned, he'd never known Captain America. Yes, it was bullshit, but it was easier than facing the fact that one of the closest friends he had-and he really didn't have many-had betrayed him so completely and utterly.

He realized he should probably go get changed. Steve could wait-maybe indefinitely, maybe forever. Pepper was what mattered now. He still had a second chance.

~A~

Pepper hadn't changed much in seven months-same hair, pulled into the same no nonsense ponytail at the back of her head. Sometimes when they were on dates or just hanging out back at the Tower he'd been able to convince her to let her hair down-but never when she was at work. Whenever she was at the office the ponytail stayed in; she was, after all, CEO of one of the biggest tech conglomerates in the world and thus had a reputation to uphold. He immediately handed her a cup of her favorite Earl Grey. "Just a touch of sugar-just the way you like it."

"Thanks." She took an appreciative sip as they took a seat at the 'kitchen' table, looking out at the empty acres of farmland surrounding the base.

"Busy day at the office?"

She shrugged. "No busier than normal. Everyone thinks that their problem is the next Wall Street crash-but they're surprisingly productive, in spite of everything."

"I'm sure you don't have anything to do with that."

It made him happier than he cared to admit that even after all this time, he could still make her smile. "So, what seems to be the problem? I get the feeling this isn't just a social call." For the first time, she seemed to notice how deserted the base was-the feeling of loneliness and neglect had taken to hanging on the air like a stifling blanket. "Where is everyone? The place looks pretty deserted."

"Let's see...Rogers, Falcon, Barton, and Maximoff are who knows where...Romanoff is on the run...King T'Challa is back in Wakanda...Parker is back in school, hopefully-he only missed a couple of days, if you can believe that-Rhodes is at Columbia Medical Center for a checkup, and Vision is doing a little bit of soul searching. It's just me today."

She nearly choked on her tea. "Vision is _soul searching?"_

"Yeah. He has his first crush."

"I...didn't think that was possible."

"Neither did I. But he spent a couple of weeks moping in the little witch's bedroom, so I finally gave him leave to go look for her. He hasn't back since-which I assume means he's found her."

"...Okay then."

He sighed. "Listen, Pepper...nothing's been the same since Leipzig. Well, if you're thinking about it objectively I suppose you could make the case that nothing's been the same since Sokovia. But at least the team didn't split up. At least we weren't scattered to the four corners of the world because some of us were stupid enough-or maybe brave enough, I'm still not sure yet-to go against authority. At least we were...a family, even in spite of all the mistakes we've made."

"You miss them, don't you?"

"Some days are worse than others. Really, I don't know why I'm complaining-it's not like I'm not used to being alone. Growing up the way I did, I kind of had to. I guess I just got used to the idea of having a team-you know, a group of people that would always have your back, no matter what. Serves me right, I suppose. I didn't see the signs. I let myself be lulled into a false sense of security; nothing good lasts forever, right?"

Pepper sighed, stirring a spoon in her tea absentmindedly. "Tony, you know what they're like. I don't think you could have changed Steve's mind if you held him at gunpoint."

"No, you're right. He's extremely stubborn-which he uses both to his advantage and detriment. And of course, everyone has to follow him."

"They're on the run. I'm sure that's not exactly the easiest thing to accomplish either."

He grit his teeth, feeling the sudden need to make her understand. He hadn't told anyone about what Zemo had revealed to him-not Vision, not even Rhodey. It was as if by hiding it he could somehow make it less real; like he could shove it into a glass bottle and hide it away in a locked chest, where he would never have to see it again. But he'd trusted Pepper once, more than he'd trusted anyone else including himself. If they had any chance of fixing things, he'd have to trust her once again. "The Winter Soldier killed my parents."

"What?"

"December 16th, 1991...when I went to Siberia, Zemo showed me security footage of the Winter Soldier crashing their car and murdering both my parents. I had to watch him _strangle my mother,_ Pepper." He shook his head, as if that would make the memory go away. "For twenty five years, I thought the crash was just an accident-it was a cold night, the roads were slippery, they hit a rough patch, and they ran out of luck. Maybe that's all I could believe. Maybe that's all I could tell myself to get through the night sometimes, when I was tired of drinking and too agitated to sleep."

"Tony-"

"That's not the worst part. Steve...Steve _knew_ about it. I don't know how long-at least since the fall of SHIELD, maybe even longer. But he knew, and he didn't tell me. Pepper, I had a right to know! I deserved to know! And he didn't tell me!" Without realizing it, his voice had increased in pitch until he was practically screaming. It took all the self restraint he had not to send his flat palm crashing down onto the steel table. He could feel everything bubbling up inside of him: the betrayal, the hurt, the sadness, and the hatred; if he wasn't careful, he was going to lose it and it wouldn't matter who was in the way.

Pepper was silent for a long time, perhaps giving him time to calm down before she next spoke. "I'm sorry, Tony. That's terrible-and no one should have to see that. And I'm sorry about Steve." She cleared her throat, as if trying to phrase what was on her mind without upsetting him. "I'm sure he hid the truth because he was just trying to protect you-"

"It wasn't his right. I don't need protecting."

She sighed. "I know that, Tony-but I think he forgot. And I know what he did was wrong, and you have every right in the world to be upset with him...but if your roles were switched, and Rhodey was in the Winter Soldier's place, would you have really told Steve the truth automatically?"

He replied without considering, before his brain had time to fact check his statements. "Of course! I wouldn't want that weight dragging around on my consciousness."

"Steve's a horse of a different color, Tony. Maybe he wanted to carry that burden so you didn't have to. You know how he is-loyal to a fault, even if it just makes things worse."

She had a point, but he knew he wasn't ready to see it. Maybe when more time had passed, when he could look at the note Steve had sent him without wanting to rip it up, he could think about forgiving-not forgetting, but moving on. But not now, when the hurt was still so close and he travelled back to Siberia whenever he closed his eyes. He was terrified to go to sleep some nights and his sleep aids weren't helping-then again, they almost never did. "I wish he hadn't had to take everyone with him."

"Rhodey's still here, isn't he?"

"Yeah, but...he's not the same, Pep. I mean, I can't say I blame the guy. His leg's made of metal now. That's got to take some adjusting to. Even so, he's quieter. He jokes less, spends more time inside his head...sometimes it's like he's not even there, even if we're in the same room. The doctors say he might never be able to go Avenging again." Rage prickled down his spine; this shouldn't have happened. Rhodey shouldn't be like this. He should have done something; he should have stopped things before they'd gotten out of hand. Steve would fight until the end; that had always been his style, but never Tony's. He should have done...something-offered to bargain, maybe? Something that wouldn't throw the rest of them in cells like common prisoners.

 _The Futurist..._ Dammit, Barton. If he had any idea how long Tony had spent that first night, on the phone with anyone and everyone who would listen to him, trying to get them out. He had spent _hours_ flip flopping from one government official to the next, pleading their case time and time again, but he'd been met with blank walls everywhere he turned. If he had any idea how guilty Tony had felt the first time he'd visited the Raft and seen them all locked up-hell, they'd even put Wanda in a straitjacket with a _shock collar._ Like she was an animal. _You're lucky you didn't end up in one of these cells._ And why didn't he? He deserved it. His people were just as much at fault for what happened in Germany as Steve's were. But his status had bought him out, if they were being honest. Anyone else would have had to go through at least a preliminary hearing-but not Tony Stark, billionaire-genius-playboy-philanthropist extraordinaire. Clint didn't know any of that, though. None of them did-and none of them would. None of them would know how much he sacrificed for them, for the team. For the world. _Maybe he carries that burden so you don't have to._

As much as he tried to run from it, maybe he and Steve were more alike than he cared to admit. Yes, they had their major differences...but they certainly had their similarities. They both cared for the team-and the wellbeing of everyone on it.

"Tony." Pepper's hand on his wrist snapped him back to the present.

"Sorry." he said quietly. "I guess I just zoned out there for a second."

"You know...ever since I said I wanted to take a break, I've found that my life has been a lot less interesting."

"Maybe that's a good thing."

She rolled her eyes. "Tony, do you know why I started to care about you in the first place?"

"My rugged good looks?"

"...No. Guess again."

"My exorbitant mansion?"

"No."

"My flippant and devil-may-care manner?"

"No-in fact, the very opposite. After Afghanistan, you changed completely-and I realized that you weren't just like every other rich person I'd ever met-you genuinely cared about people, more than you cared about money. You gave to charity not just because you had to but because you could. And you played it off like it was nothing, like you were a stone fortress and nothing could hurt you-even though the walls you built around yourself weren't nearly as strong as you thought they were. There was something special about that-a billionaire who works so hard to protect everyone else that he forgets to protect himself. And even though you spent so much of your time trying to protect me...I've always been trying to do what I can to protect you too. I made a mistake by walking away."

"You said things weren't working out."

"That was after Ultron, when I thought you were still so worried about saving the world that you'd lost sight of anyone and everyone else. But I made the wrong call-and I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. I'm the one that let you walk away." He could have kissed her-he actually thought about it quite a bit-but he settled for hugging her instead, conveying all of his relief, compassion, and love for her in that one gesture. "So, are things back to normal now?"

She laughed. "I guess as much as they can be when you're dating a billionaire. Besides, what were you going to do without me?"

"I'd lose 12% productivity."

She gently jostled him with her elbow, making her tea rustle alarmingly. " _Just_ 12%?"

"Okay fine. More like 16%. On a good day."

It felt so normal, so _right_ , to be here talking with her just like they used to-to know that he had the same person in his corner that he'd always had. It made him wonder if things could still get better, even though they weren't exactly okay at the moment.

Maybe, when he felt up to it and the hurt wasn't so potent...maybe he still had a chance to fix things.

~A~

"I believe you may find meditation beneficial."

Wanda realized she really shouldn't have been startled when she turned around to see Vision leaning casually against her bedroom wall. He'd taken to phasing through her bedroom floor at odd hours; she simply hadn't been able to explain the concept of personal space to him. And she'd tried, more than once. "Vizh, how many times have I told you to knock?"

"I considered it, but I found it much more convenient to simply come through the floor instead. It saves us both quite a bit of trouble."

She thought about trying to make more of a teaching opportunity out of the moment but decided against it; it would be like trying to teach a small child who simply wasn't understanding. She replied instead with "What were you saying about meditation?" in an attempt to change the subject.

"I have read that meditation can lead to increased awareness of your mental and emotional state and allow you to better control that state in times of stress-the intent being, of course, that if an occasion like Lagos was to arise you would be able to have full control over your abilities."

"That's an interesting idea. I'll have to try it sometime."

He cleared his throat, looking almost embarrassed. "...We could try it now, if you'd like. I could teach you."

She had to raise an eyebrow at that. "You've learned about meditation?"

"Yes. I spent most of last night absorbing common methods and I believe I am more than capable to impart what I have learned."

"...Okay then." She glanced at the clock, making a special effort not to glance out the window. It was easier to be a shut in if she didn't have to constantly be reminded of what she was missing. "I suppose we have time. If it's not too much trouble-"

"Of course not, Wanda. Whatever I can do to benefit your wellbeing I will do happily. It's no trouble at all." He took a seat on the worn floral rug that covered a section of the attic's wooden floor and invited her to sit down next to her-which she did, after a second of looking at him almost ruefully. She'd always admired his brutal honesty-even if he called her beautiful in front of her other teammates once or twice and now they were all convinced that he and Wanda should be a couple. Especially Scott, who asked her about it at least three times a day.

They went through some simple meditation techniques-nothing complicated, just a few exercises Wanda could run through before she went to sleep at night to clear her mind and focus her senses. At first she wasn't very focused-she was forever getting distracted by the noises the house made as it rose and settled and the sensation of sitting so close to Vision and feeling the heat rise from his 'skin'. It always confused her; she was so used to thinking of androids as cold and metallic that she'd somehow expected Vision to be that way too-though he was nothing of the sort; more like vibrant and full of life. Besides his skin color, he acted just as human as everyone else in the cabin-perhaps even more so.

It was so easy for her to get distracted, with thoughts like this. But she forced herself to focus, thinking about how much increased control of her abilities could save the lives of others in the field. Although HYDRA had never told her how to control her powers, she'd never really needed them to-she'd quickly figured that out on her own. But in stressful situations, when the lives of individuals hung in the balance...if her concentration slipped, just for a second, she became that scared girl back in Sokovia-hiding inside a bombed out bookstore and watching terrified as the only world she'd ever known imploded around her. What right did she have to be a superhero; to save lives?

"Wanda, your thoughts are straying again."

She shut her eyes, forcing herself to focus again. "Right. Sorry, Vizh."

He looked at her strangely for a second, almost as if he could tell what she was thinking-though of course only she had that ability. By the next second that look had vanished, replaced by his usual easygoing grin. "There is nothing to apologize for-but I believe we should move on…"

She'd only expected to devote half an hour at most to her first meditation lesson.

They ended up spending three and a half-only stopping when Sam called them down for dinner.

~A~

The nightmare woke her just after two in the morning, screaming. It took her a minute to realize where she was; shadows played across the walls threateningly and she'd somehow managed to kick all of the blankets to the end of the bed in her haste.

Vision suddenly phased up through the floor again, looking concerned. "Wanda, are you all right?" She didn't miss the way his eyes played over the walls and windows as though searching for an intruder.

She instantly felt bad for disturbing him. "Yes, sorry. I just had a nightmare." She hoped it wouldn't become a recurring theme; she had nightmares every so often of course, but it was nothing like it had been in the weeks and months immediately following the Battle of Sokovia, when she'd had them every night.

"Would it help to talk about it?"

"No. It's just one of the usual 'everyone dies' types. It's not worth worrying about."

"If it stresses you out then of course it is a matter worth worrying about." He paused for a moment, as though deep in thought, before he spoke again. "Do you remember, back at the compound, when I would make you tea after the worst dreams?"

"I suppose. Why?"

"Well...we're out of the Earl Grey type you like, but I believe I have something that will help you instead."

She couldn't help smiling. "All right, Vizh. What did you have in mind?"

~A~

It was nearly impossible to climb down the ladder and go downstairs without waking anyone else up but somehow she managed it-although she worried at any second Steve or Bucky would get up and want to know what she was doing. But for once they stayed asleep and she was able to regroup with Vision at the back door without any trouble.

It was a nice night; warm, but slightly breezy so the heat didn't become too stifling. Silently, she followed Vision further into the woods, to a place they sometimes used for picnics in the daytime. It looked strange by the light of the stars, dappled in moonlight with the dark trees standing like odd sentries against the oncoming day-and yet, Vision didn't seem to notice any of it. His eyes were fixed upwards as he began to levitate and invited her to do the same-and she soon saw why.

The sky was filled with millions of stars.

It wasn't as though Wanda wasn't used to seeing stars. She'd seen them in Sokovia, though they'd often been blurry and far away due to light pollution; and she'd seen them at the Avengers base, although she was usually too busy to properly stargaze. But she'd never seen stars like this before-stars so close she could reach out and touch them, so bright that they looked like little pinpricks of light determined to poke holes in the endless dome of darkness high above her. They were amazing and beautiful, even, in their own stark way-especially from fifteen feet in the air, with the tops of trees brushing her feet. "I've never seen so many of them before."

"Neither have I." Vision replied softly. "Sometimes I would stargaze at the compound at night but there are even more here. They're beautiful, aren't they?"

"Yes. They really are." She could just imagine him, hovering in the sky just like they were now, perhaps finding constellations or perhaps just taking in how small they made him feel, how much they made everyone realize just how small they really were. How their problems were never quite as big as they thought they were and life would continue to go on, even when they had ceased to live. They stayed silent for a while as the stars moved overhead, the rest of the world dark and silent. "And Vizh...I don't think I ever thanked you for coming back."

"You don't need to-"  
"I know, but I wanted to. And...I missed you too."

~A~

By the time Vision finally insisted they go inside because Wanda was beginning to shiver, the sky had just started to color with the faintest hint of dawn. The den was still deserted; it was too early for even Steve and Bucky, evidently.

"I suppose it's too late to go back to sleep." she said, taking a seat on the couch and grabbing the Netflix remote from amid the Downton Abbey wreckage Scott always left lying around even though the rest of the team had told him in no uncertain terms to clean them up. "Would you like to watch something, Vizh?"

He took the chair next to her and glanced appraisingly at the team's watch list. "I don't have a preference." Wanda supposed that being an android prevented him from getting obsessed with TV shows as easily as the others did; not even the most shocking death on _Game of Thrones_ seemed to excite him. On the other hand he was up for watching anything-he wasn't one to insist they watch _Breaking Bad_ because 'they only had fifteen episodes left!'.

She picked a show at random and made herself comfortable, curling up on the couch while making sure she still had a good view of the screen. Even the show was interesting and absorbing, it didn't take long for her four hours of sleep to catch up with her and she soon caught herself yawning and needing to rewind two or three times between she'd dozed off. Within fifteen minutes, she was half asleep.

She was only dimly aware of Vision getting up, gently taking the remote and putting it on a side table, and switching off the television. "We'll finish it when you are feeling more alert." he said softly. She heard him cross to the cabinet across the room, there was the sound of something shuffling, and then she felt a blanket being draped over her carefully. "Sleep well, Wanda."

She wanted to protest but he had a point-sleeping seemed like a better option than trying to point out all the ways in which she could look after herself. In fact, she just had time to say "Thank you, Vizh." and hope that he knew what she meant-not just the blanket or the stars but everything else as well.

~A~

Wanda woke up a few hours later and almost fell off the couch. The cabin was a disconcerting rush of voices and sound and it took her a few minutes to place where she was.

Clint shook her awake. "We need to get going, kid." he said, sweeping all of the assorted DVDs littering the table into a plastic bag.

"Why? What's going on?" She tried to put the pieces together and quantify things in her mind but nothing was adding up-Scott was running up and down the stairs carrying random household objects and occasionally boxes of food, Steve and Bucky were shouting back and forth to each other somewhere overhead, and Sam and Vision were nowhere to be seen. Then her eyes fell on the person standing a few feet away, leaning against the wall and glancing out the front window every five minutes. " _Natasha?"_

"You seem at least partially alert. Good." Natasha looked outside again, as if waiting for somebody-though as far as Wanda knew they weren't expecting any other guests. At least, they hadn't been. "We let you sleep because Vision said you'd been up all night and we need you to be alert for the foreseeable future-but we're running out of time. Grab a backpack and pack anything you can't live without. Everything else stays here."

"Why?" Cold water was running down her spine. She knew what was happening-how could she not?-but there was some small part of her that thought things would be okay if she just stayed where she was, safe on the couch, in the cabin, away from danger. Although it looked like the cabin wasn't safe anymore.

"Ross knows we're here and the government is coming. We're going on the run."

She bit her lip so hard she tasted blood. "Where are we going to go?"

Natasha and Clint exchanged a look. "We'll figure it out when we get there. Now come on-we don't have any time to waste."

Shocked into action, she scrambled upstairs and tore up the ladder to what she'd come to think of as 'her' bedroom-although it wasn't her room anymore. She grabbed the backpack where it sat at the foot of her bed, ready and packed for weeks, and her guitar-yes, it wasn't practical, but she sure as hell wasn't leaving it behind for the government to confiscate.

Why was it that just when she started to get comfortable somewhere she always got uprooted?

Her fingers were sparking with magic; her powers had caught onto her stress and now they were only making things worse. It took everything she had just to keep them in check; all she wanted to do was hex Secretary Ross and whoever worked for him-though she was sure that would make things worse, it would feel satisfying. But she didn't; she focused on Vision's meditation tips instead and slowly, _slowly,_ calmed down.

Just then Steve called up "Wanda, are you ready? We need to leave!"

"Coming!" She put on her backpack, grabbed her guitar case, and looked around her surrogate room. Even though it still looked vacant-Steve had encouraged them not to leave any personal items lying around in case of just such an emergency-it held a sense of home. A home that it seemed like she was constantly losing.

Shutting her eyes against sudden tears, she climbed downstairs. She was acting like a _child._ This wasn't how an Avenger should act; she'd left the fear behind in Sokovia. She was better than this, and she had to show the others she wasn't afraid.

The team noticed her guitar, but they didn't say anything-for which she was grateful. Steve just looked around the room one last time, opened the front door, and said "Everyone in the car."

It was a bit of a squeeze with two new members, but they made it work. Once everyone's belongings had been shoved unceremoniously in the back, Steve hit the gas and they drove off-headed to anywhere in the world or nowhere at all, at least in Wanda's mind. She was sure none of them knew where they were going; only that they couldn't stay.

She wouldn't look at anyone else as the car drove away; just looked out the window at the tiny house in the middle of nowhere that had somehow, inexplicably, started to feel like home.

 **So Natasha's back-finally! I plan to have next chapter be mostly if not fully from her point of view to kind of fill in the missing time, as give a heads up.**

 **Review, follow, and favorite! Have a great day!**


	11. Paris

**Hi everybody! Welcome to the new chapter!**

 **Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

 **Enjoy!**

" _I'm not the one who needs to watch their back."_

She'd just left. There'd been a (very) short period of time when she'd been contemplating going back to the Avengers base to retrieve her things-the FBI was too busy dealing with the process and containment of the detained Avengers to worry about her-but she eventually decided against it. Better not to risk it, especially since everything she had could be easily replaced. After all, she supposed she was a fugitive just as much as they were. She'd risked everything to help Steve, because there was some small part of her that knew if he was saying there were more psycho assassins out there like the Winter Soldier he had a good reason for it-and the rest of the world probably depended on it. But that didn't matter to the government. It didn't matter to Stark.

So she didn't go to the Base. She just stole a car from Leipzig-a nice Subaru; roomy, with a wide range of radio stations-and drove off. It was late May, the perfect time to do some sightseeing. It had been a long time since she'd been to Europe without being on a mission of some kind. Maybe she could go to Paris-see the Louvre, eat at one of those outdoor cafes, and watch the sunset from the Eiffel Tower. She could forget about everything for just a little while until it all blew over.

So she did. Natasha Romanoff went back to doing what she did best-and dropped off the grid completely.

She was no stranger to being on the run and hiding in plain sight. She knew how to look at the ground and walk fast-but not too fast-so she could stay on the edges of everyone's vision. She could speak two dozen languages fluently. She could completely blend into a busy street; no one noticed her. Not even when the warrants came up for her arrest-and the price on her head got bigger and bigger. She didn't worry about it. They wouldn't find her unless she wanted to be found.

But that didn't mean she was immune to everything else that was happening in the world around her. She picked up the newspaper the next morning, eating a croissant at a tiny patisserie that was nearly deserted at such an early hour, seeing pictures of her friends in handcuffs staring back at her. Apparently Steve and Bucky were still MIA-though the entire world was looking for them. The government officials said that it was only a matter of time before they were taken in and perhaps even arrested. Natasha knew better. She read Tony's remarks on the whole incident: how it had been a mistake and he would personally pay for any outstanding damages caused to the Leipzig/Halle airport. That was nice of him to take the fall, she mused thoughtfully. Though it would certainly keep him out of jail, considering that Team Cap hadn't been the only ones to cause damages.

" _More coffee, miss_?" her waiter, a clean cut young man with neatly gelled black hair (who looked surprisingly awake) said in perfect French as he brought over a fresh pitcher and a few more packets of sugar.

" _No thank you._ " she replied politely, not looking up from the article.

He followed her eyeline. " _It's very sad, isn't it? The world's greatest superheroes reduced to a debacle like this? Perhaps the United Nations has a point-maybe it's safer for us all if the team is more restricted."_

She tried not to bristle obviously. The Avengers were still her friends-and they were still her team, even if they didn't realize it at the moment. " _Perhaps-but the last thing we want is for them to become partisan. It's sometimes hard to remember they're just people like you and me. When they're saving the world, they seem like gods-but they're people, and people make mistakes."_

" _Unfortunately, when you hold such great power, mistakes are more costly."_

She sighed, shoving the newspaper into her purse and finishing the last of her croissant. Pressing a few coins into the waiter's hand, she stood and turned to leave. " _You're right. I have to go. Will this be enough to cover the meal?"_

" _Do you want a receipt-"_

" _No, I'm fine. Have a good day, monsieur."_ She didn't look back and didn't stop walking until the restaurant was no longer in sight-when she could pull the newspaper back out and throw it in the trash.

~A~

For a few days she wandered aimlessly around the city. She bought a small room in a hotel directly in the center of town, surrounded by high rises and old buildings alike, where no one would ask too many questions. She gave a fake name and used a fake credit card-funneling money from Tony's account; she hoped he wouldn't mind, seeing as she couldn't use her own without bringing the entire might of the International Police down on her back. She saw museums, went to a different restaurant every night, watched the couples walking along the Seine with a cool indifference-love wasn't worth it, anyway-and bought a few expensive hats, dresses, and bottles of perfume. It was easy to immerse herself in her own cover and pretend she really was just another European using up her vacation days; in fact, she was surprised how little time it took for the Avengers compound and everyone she knew to become just a faint tickle in the back of her mind-something she thought about, certainly, but something that belonged to a harder past.

At least until they put a price on her head too.

She looked up from her book as an 'important news bulletin' interrupted the nightly broadcast to explain that ex Avenger Natasha Romanoff, who had aided in the escape of fugitives Steven Grant Rogers and James Buchanan Barnes, was also wanted by the United Nations. The news anchors talked with a few members of the international police, who explained that they were 'following up some leads'-which Natasha took to mean they had no ideas at all.

She glanced at the picture of her at the signing of the Sokovia Accords-was that really only two weeks ago? It seemed like so much longer-that was standing in as her Wanted poster for a long minute before she turned back to the door. It was late, but the shops would still be open. She wondered if the bookstore down the street would be open as well; she was going to buy a sketchbook.

~A~

Steve had come back for the others.

Natasha watched with interest as the camera panned through what had once been a cell block, passing over doors wrenched off their hinges or supposedly unbreakable glass walls on the floor in shattered bits of debris. It came to rest on one cell in particular, where a straitjacket lay in two neat pieces and a shock collar had been thrown haphazardly into one corner-still smoking lazily. She paused the television and examined the knife work on the jacket itself: careful, precise, and deliberate. It looked like Clint's work for sure-and the caution he'd taken was evident, hence the neatness of the affair. Wanda had probably still been inside of it and he'd been trying not to cut her. That gave her pause for a minute, thinking about how they'd probably been out of time and out of options but he'd still taken his time making sure their youngest member wouldn't be harmed any more than she already had been. She shook her head ruefully; for the ruthless assassin Clint claimed to be, he still had a hell of a gentle streak.

She could already tell how they'd done it; they'd had someone working on the inside to shut down AV and sound in that cell block (probably Vision, the more she thought about it) and they'd escaped off the roof. A risky move, but ultimately a fruitful one-now they had disappeared without a trace. She wondered where they were now-whether they were plotting their next move or just trying to regroup.

She almost thought about calling them. And maybe she would have, if she hadn't thought they needed to concentrate on finding a safe house or doing whatever they were planning to do now. They weren't Avengers anymore, but that didn't mean they weren't safe.

She almost wished Steve had called her first. She could have gotten into the Raft in half the time with half the effort. But she dismissed that thought almost as soon as it crossed her mind; his phone was probably compromised. It _was_ Stark's tech after all. She just hoped they wouldn't need her. Hopefully Steve and Clint would know what to do from here and be able to take care of everyone else. The others wouldn't last a day on their own otherwise. She knew Sam and Wanda at least; they were great people, but they knew next to nothing about living on the run-where one slip up or mistake could lead to your arrest.

But above all, she hoped that wherever they were they'd be safe. In the end, all that mattered was staying together. She was particularly wary of superhero registration herself; the only reason she'd signed the Accords was because resistance was futile and it was the only way to keep the team together. Of course, Steve was too damn self righteous to follow along and the rest of his team was too loyal to leave him. And here they were-they sure as hell weren't a team anymore. Maybe they never would be.

The thought that they were safe and together was a small comfort at least.

~A~

After two weeks she checked out of the hotel and rented a small flat nearby. It wasn't much-just a living room with attached kitchenette and a bedroom with an attached bathroom-but it was anonymous enough. She hardly ever went in it, anyways; she spent her days roaming the city streets, drawing in green parks or visiting tourist attractions while dodging the tourists. They were easy to spot; always carrying cameras and snapping pictures of everything in sight-including her, if she wasn't careful. Not that she thought anyone knew her well enough to recognize her just from a blurry face in a photograph, but you could never be too careful. When there was ten thousand dollars in reward money on the line, people could behave in all kinds of unexpected ways.

She still watched the news nightly-not just to make sure her cover remained intact but because she liked to be up to date on everyone else. For the first few weeks, all they would talk about was Steve's escape plot-how unexpected it had been and how, despite the best efforts of Interpol, the team remained hidden. Tony and T'Challa gave statement after statement and donation upon donation, trying to appease the governments of the world-it didn't take very long considering they were both rich and charismatic with a head for public speaking.

Slowly, the world began to go back to normal. The Avengers were in fewer and fewer news stories until they were barely there at all. Whatever Steve and Clint were doing seemed to be working-and working well.

Then Vision vanished off the face of the planet.

It was all anyone could talk about for at least a week-the team's most powerful member was taking a leave of absence for unexplained reasons. The whole affair had been quiet and secretive; Tony would barely give out any details and those he did disclose were vague at best. The government seemed to equate it to losing a nuclear weapon; Natasha could have laughed in their faces, because Vision was the least likely thing to ever go off without cause. He was the perfect vessel of harmony and tranquility, which made his departure all the more surprising-and a little worrying-in the eyes of the populace. But not to Natasha, who had known him for an entire year.

In fact, she didn't think he'd really needed that time to 'clear his head', or whatever bullshit Tony was feeding the reporters. She had a very different reason in mind: she thought that the android had finally realized he was in love with Wanda Maximoff and had left everything behind to go be with her like some poor sap in the romantic novels she always saw in the checkout line at the grocery store. The Red Room had trained her to be attuned to people's emotions but she could have figured it out anyway-he always found excuses to spend time with her, they stayed up late talking most nights over cups of hot chocolate (Natasha wasn't the easiest sleeper and she'd grown accustomed to seeing warm light spill out from under the kitchen door when she went to go watch television), and he was forever interrupting missions to go check up on her-even though everyone on the team knew Wanda was more than capable of protecting herself. And she was proud of him for it...even though it was still kind of strange, given that he was completely synthetic.

She hoped Clint remembered to give him the 'hurt her and I'll murder you' speech now that Pietro wasn't around. She would have helped him; in a way, Wanda was kind of like the younger sister she'd never had-when she'd first arrived at the compound Natasha had been the one who got her up at 5:30 for early training sessions, forced her to keep going when all she wanted to do was stop, and showed her where the team kept the good vodka. Considering what had happened with Bruce...yeah, if Vision broke her heart Natasha would murder him, infinity stone be damned.

Of course, there were rumors that he'd defected to Team Cap, but they couldn't be proved and they soon died out. Vision and Scarlet Witch's names were certainly never used in conjunction with each other-or even in the same paragraph-most of the time; Natasha suspected if she were to leave an 'anonymous tip' it would be all over the tabloids within days. A robot/human love story seemed just the kind of thing hopeless romantics would love to eat up.

~A~

Clint tried to contact her a couple of times through channels that only he and she would know, asking her how she'd been and where she was. She answered him as sparingly as possible; only one or two words each time. She didn't like it, but it was for the best-she still didn't know who was watching her or how easily she could be tracked. Best to keep him-all of them-out of her affairs.

That didn't mean she didn't still miss them. Sometimes she would find herself lying awake at odd hours of the night, missing the way Steve's eyes crinkled at the corners when she was able to make him laugh, how she was able to tell Clint _anything,_ Sam and Rhodey's constant competition, Wanda's touch of innocence even after years of what was tantamount to torture, even Tony's dumb jokes. She'd always assumed that one day the team would fall apart and when that day happened she'd revert back to her old lifestyle with no problems and no transitions.

She didn't realize how much she'd grown to care about them without even realizing it.

That was May and most of June.

~A~

Bruce found her on a hot day in the very last week of June. When he did, she wasn't sure whether she should kiss him, kill him, or flat out walk away.

It was an extremely hot day-hands down one of the hottest in the season-and she was reading a crime thriller on a park bench beside a beautiful fountain, moving around as necessary to ensure she was always sitting in the shade. She'd chanced to let her guard down; the plaza was almost deserted because of the heat and the few people who were there were mostly dog walkers or mothers with small children-in general, people who were too preoccupied by other things to worry about a woman who may or may not be a rogue Avenger.

"Natasha."

At first she thought she was hallucinating and considered going back inside for some water-until she looked up and he took a seat on the wooden bench next to her. He looked healthy-a little gaunt, perhaps, with new stubble around his mouth and unkempt hair but nearly exactly the way he'd been the last time she'd seen him back in Sokovia when he'd asked her if she wanted to run away with him. He wore a simple shirt and pants, lightweight in the summer heat. "Bruce?" The idea that he was here, in _Paris,_ was so unbelievable she was convinced he wasn't real. He'd gone into stealth mode; she'd taken that to mean she'd never see him again.

He nodded, glancing at her almost nervously as though worried about how she would react. To be honest, she was too. "Guilty as charged."

"I thought you were in Fiji."

He laughed. "I was, for a while-but I just can't seem to get a tan. Must be something to do with the Other Guy."

"Why are you here?"

"When I heard you'd disappeared after Leipzig...I kind of figured you might go here. It's taken me a couple of weeks to find you-I'm sure the hotel owner thinks I'm a madman, leaving at first light and staggering in hours after the sun goes down, and I've nearly depleted my resources but...I knew that if you were looking for a place to hide, where's better than hiding in plain sight?"

"Like finding a needle in a haystack."

"Exactly." He still looked worried she would straight up murder him . "So...how've you been?"

She shrugged. "Paris is nice this time of year." Her tone was deceptively indifferent; she'd decided she wasn't going to kill him but that didn't mean she needed to pretend like he hadn't left her just when they'd been coming to terms with their feelings about each other.

He sighed. "Look Natasha, I'm sorry. I know I've been a dick and I regret not talking to you for all of this time...but I don't regret what I did. When you...can do what I can do, it's hard to start a stable relationship. I wasn't scared of what I was feeling...but I _was_ scared of hurting you."

"You shouldn't. I can take care of myself."

"Yes, I know...but what if one day something went wrong or I changed at an inopportune moment? If something happened to you because of me, I'd never be able to forgive myself."

"You could have called."

"I know. Like I said, I was a dick, and I'm extremely sorry." He shrugged sadly. "Maybe you can forgive me, maybe you can't...but I heard about what happened in Leipzig. Nasty stuff. It almost makes me wish I would've been there."

She laughed mirthlessly. "Yes, because a Hulk running around isn't absolutely the last thing we needed in that situation. Did you hear about what Scott Lang did? He started growing instead of shrinking. In a way, it kind of reminded me of you-just less angry." She didn't say anything about the ideology behind it and how there was a good chance they wouldn't even have been on the same side anyway. "Besides, I guess the government has better things to do than look for you."

"Yeah, because they're too busy looking for everyone else. Do you know where Steve is?"

"No. I've talked with Clint a couple of times but I'm trying to give them space for the time being. Three of them have never been on the run before."

"That's got to come as a shock."

"I'm sure Steve has it under control. Do you think Vision is with them?"

"I can't see where else he'd go. He's never really struck me as the kind to enjoy lounging around on a beach in Hawaii with a cocktail in one hand and a paperback in the other."

"I don't think he even drinks cocktails." Or anything else, for that matter.

Finally Bruce's smile faded and he pulled a laptop out of his beat up leather briefcase; he flipped it up and began to type, letting his eyes circle the courtyard to make sure they still weren't being watched. "Finding you today wasn't really a coincidence."

"I didn't think so. What happened?"

"Stark taught me some rudimentary hacking skills when we were staying at the tower after the Battle of New York. I never thought they'd come in handy, but I've been using them to monitor the government this past year and make sure nobody finds me. It involves breaking through a few private channels, but nothing too illegal. Anyway, something very interesting popped up on their radar last night." He shifted the screen so she could see a picture of an elderly couple with white hair and sunglasses, looking utterly relaxed as they sat by a poolside table. "This is Dr. Jake Adams and his wife, Eliza. They moved to Florida to retire back in January; they lived in upstate New York for over thirty five years-and they've made the acquaintance of one Sharon Carter." Natasha's stomach dropped. "They've been renting out the house to their oldest son, Ellis, this summer. That is, they thought they were. Apparently, Ellis took a job in South Africa instead-but he forgot to tell his parents up until a few days ago. And yet, utilities like electricity and hot water are still being used in the Adams' old cabin."

"And you think Steve is holed up there?"

"I don't know. The government thinks so-they're thinking about sending a squad up to investigate."

"That doesn't necessarily mean anything. There are lots of fugitives out there, not just the Avengers. It could be just some runaway kids." Not that she believed that. If Dr. Adams knew Sharon Carter-who was extremely close to Captain America-then there was little to no chance the Avengers weren't involved.

"Either way, they're going to check it out. I thought you might want to warn them."

She was already planning. "I'm heading over there."

She could tell he hadn't been expecting her to say that. "What?"

"If the government really is monitoring that house and Steve and the others don't know about it yet, even the usual methods of communication aren't going to be safe. I have to go warn them in person." Secretly, she didn't mind. It had been too long since she'd seen them, anyway. This was just giving her an excuse to go back-it wasn't just her own hopes and expectations; it was more like she didn't have a choice. If they didn't know what was coming, they were going to get arrested.

She kept seeing that straitjacket, cut apart neatly.

Bruce fell in step neatly beside her. "Are you heading to the airport right now?"

"Well, no. First I need to buy tickets and pick some things up at the flat-but yes, that would be the general idea." She didn't have any time to waste; she strode along, not particularly caring whether or not he kept pace beside her. He did.

They walked in silence to her flat, where she immediately grabbed a backpack and shoved in what she could fit-a few outfits, a couple of books, her sketchpad, and her toiletries. She didn't bother bringing a suitcase-not only would she be able to waste a lot less time at the baggage claim once she reached the Syracuse airport but she didn't think she'd really need it anyway-the team would be on the run again, after all. Bruce just watched in calm silence, leaning against the wall beside the door and being sure he stayed out of the way. "Something tells me this isn't the first time you've done this."

She smirked. "When you're an assassin, you make a lot of enemies. I'm used to it-maybe even more comfortable with it than I was living in the base with the others." When you were on the run, everything was self preservation: you lived for yourself, looked after yourself, and if you got killed or captured that was your fault too. She wasn't used to feeling like she needed to look after people-or have people feel like they needed to look after her.

He nodded. "Me too." There was a long, awkward silence-and then Natasha pulled out her phone and called the airport, asking around for the nearest flight to New York. She had to talk to a few different people before she found a flight that left at four in the afternoon-still a full three and a half hours away. She couldn't help grimacing as she slung her bag over her shoulder, leaving the rest of the flat abandoned. Hopefully she'd be able to come back for it before too long; God knew it wasn't big enough to host seven other people, or she would have suggested they come back to Paris.

"So," Bruce continued as they walked down a small paved street tucked in between patisseries and clothing boutiques, "considering we have a little bit of time to kill, do you want to get some coffee?" She almost said no-but she had nothing better to do so she finally found herself shrugging and stopping at the nearest sidewalk cafe.

"You can order." she said, pulling out her cell phone and checking for the millionth time for any new messages from Tony-mostly to give her something to do. There weren't any, as per usual. "You know what I like." He nodded and went to place their orders, returning five minutes later with a cup of black and bitter coffee for himself and a chai latte for her.

"Two pumps, extra whipped cream." he said, sliding it across the table towards her. She accepted it gratefully and took a scalding sip, ignoring the way it seemed to burn the roof of her mouth.

They sat in silence for a while, each person drinking their own drink, until it became nearly unbearable.

"So, where do you go from here?" Natasha asked quietly. She didn't ask him to come with her-and she certainly didn't offer to buy him tickets.

He shrugged. "I don't know-all over, I guess. Maybe I'll go back to Calcutta again; they don't ask many questions. They just need a doctor so desperately it doesn't matter if he has a terrible temper as long as he can prescribe them medication."

"Sounds like a perfect place for you." She knew that, above all, Bruce liked to feel useful-as if by helping people he made up for all the destruction he inevitably caused when he was in his...altered state. "I'm sure you'll be able to save a lot of lives."

He nodded, dragging his spoon through his coffee as if locked in quiet contemplation. "You know, if you wanted to...after this all blows over, of course...my offer still stands. If you wanted to...well, it's not like the world has any place for Avengers anymore."

For a minute she was tempted. She wondered, if she just agreed, could she fix their relationship? Could they go back to how they had been before-when they were tentative and hopeful? Could they put it all aside and start something new, even with who they were and what they'd done constantly weighing on their consciences?

Could she forget how he'd hurt her by throwing it all away?

No, she couldn't. That wasn't her. That had never been her. She could move on, certainly-she could push the feelings of hurt aside and lock them away where she would never have to see them again, but she could never really forget and it would take a long time for her to forgive. She'd never expected to give her heart away, but she had-just a bit, but enough so that it hurt when he threw it back. "I'm sorry, Bruce. I can't. Not right now, at least."

He nodded; he probably hadn't expected anything less. "I know it doesn't mean anything, but...I _am_ really sorry. And I love you, Natasha. This was never about that, you know. It has everything to do with me and nothing to do with you. But I made a mistake-a really bad one. And I know that I probably can't make up for it. Still, I wanted to try." He crumpled his empty coffee cup into a ball in his fist and threw it in the trash can nearby. "I can leave now. You'll never have to see me again, if you don't want to. I owe you that much at least-much more than that, if I'm being honest."

"No. You don't need to do that either. Don't run away again. If you want things to work-and you're really serious about this-I think we need to start over. And for that to happen, we need to stop running. We both do. Maybe we can still call each other? Why don't we start as friends and see where it goes from there?"

He smiled that smile she'd grown so accustomed to seeing-and she felt it like a stab in the ribs as she realized anew just what they could have had.

Maybe someday, when everything had settled down a bit, they still could. Maybe she'd never know-but then again, maybe they could try again.

"Yeah. That sounds good." They made doubly sure that they had each other's phone numbers and then Natasha decided it was high time she went to the airport. Bruce hailed a cab and drove her there, spending the whole time talking about things he'd seen during his impromptu travels over the past year-most kept her in stitches. She wondered what anyone who could see them would think-would they think that she and him were just a normal couple? What would they think if they knew the duo was anything but?

When they reached the airport he saw her as far as the front door. "Have a safe flight, Natasha."

"Thanks. Safe travels, Bruce-wherever it is you're headed." For a minute he looked at her almost hesitantly, so she hugged him tightly before she stepped back and slung her backpack over one shoulder. With that, she walked into the airport and directly up to the ticketing deck. Only when her boarding pass was in her hands did she look back, before she headed to security and customs (she was using a fake ID, as always).

Bruce was still standing there, a smile on his face. When he noticed her looking, he gave a small wave. As she went up the stairs that led to customs, she waved back-not daring to hope, not yet. But maybe she would, when there was a quieter moment and her thoughts weren't going in a million different directions.

But her love life could wait. Right now she had a mission to complete.

~A~

To Steve's credit, he barely even looked surprised when she showed up on his doorstep at four in the morning with the worst case of jet lag she'd ever had in her life and told him to start packing right away. He didn't question her, he didn't doubt her story, and he didn't criticize her for siding with Tony; he just nodded, gave her a smile, said "It's good to see you again, Nat." and went inside to wake the others.

 _It's good to see you too._

~A~

It had been three days and Natasha already missed Paris.

They were all out of safe houses, running from the government, and in constant danger from anyone and everyone so they'd done the only thing they could think of-they'd found an abandoned subway platform (Natasha had no idea how Bucky knew about it and suspected she'd like to remain that way) and set up camp there. She sincerely hoped it was temporary: the air always smelled vaguely of rat, the ground was hard, and everything was dirty. Scott swore up and down a rat as big as his forearm had ran across his face the night before. In any case, he'd woken everyone up from screaming profanities.

And it was _hot._ Being underground they didn't really get much fresh air as it was-but the platform was stifling; it felt like they were in a sauna all the time. And it wasn't like they could go outside for anything except to get food-and that job only fell to one or two people who wouldn't be recognized on site. The rest spent their days on the platform, languishing in the unholy heat.

Natasha looked up from the book she was reading as Sam returned with a pizza and a big grin from being outside. Sam, Natasha, and Clint were the primary food gatherers for the group: Scott couldn't lie to save his life, Bucky was a wanted terrorist, Steve was too famous (especially among teenage girls), Wanda's american accent was still shit, and Vision was _red._ "Food's here!"

"Good-I'm starved." Scott was watching something on his phone (probably Downton Abbey; Clint had helped him download the rest of the series onto his phone on the drive home; they'd ditched everything unnecessary in the bushes a couple of miles outside the city. They lived out of their backpacks-except for Wanda, who had refused to get rid of her guitar. Natasha had tried to reason with her but she wouldn't be swayed; apparently it had sentimental value and she wasn't getting rid of it a second time. Natasha had been about ready to throw the stupid thing in the river herself because how the hell were they going to manage a _guitar_ when they were constantly in motion but Steve had allowed Wanda to bring it along and Steve was still the team leader. Sam had told her the story later of how Vision had showed up on the doorstep back in early June with the guitar in hand looking like someone out of a cheesy romance flick and nothing more had been said about the instrument after that. Though now that they had it, she was (almost) glad; it provided them with live music to dispel the boredom.

She had absolutely been right; Vision and Wanda spent nearly all of their time together. Sometimes they played chess (she didn't know how Vision had found a chess set, never mind how he had snuck it out of the car, but there it was) and other times they just stayed in their corner and talked for hours without ever running out of things to talk about. Sometimes at night they would even take turns reading to each other whatever book Wanda had picked out for the night; Natasha tried not to look when they did that. It felt like she was intruding on a private moment; the two deserved what little privacy they could get, even though it was basically a thing of the past. At the moment they were talking, though Wanda stood up to get pizza.

Clint was on watch-more by his choice than because of any real need for a guard. Natasha suspected it helped him to think through things-especially when he missed his family. Cell service was spotty at best; sometimes he and Scott weren't able to call home at all. Sometimes they talked; more than anyone else in the group, she'd known him the longest and he was the person she trusted most. But he was different too; he was quieter, more thoughtful. She knew he thought of himself as the protector of the group, maybe even more than Steve did. She also noticed the way he looked at Wanda every now and then, as if trying to reassure himself that she was still okay-and she couldn't help wondering if he'd ever looked at her that way, back when she was her age. She'd just broken free from the Red Room, much like their youngest teammate (Vision didn't count because he wasn't technically a person), and she had also been trying to learn how to be normal. Clint had been invaluable-and even now, he seemed to have developed a habit of picking up strays; Natasha would be willing to bet good money that any protectiveness he felt for Wanda went far deeper than a debt he owed her brother.

Bucky had had the good sense to bring some sheets from the cabin-he'd probably known something like this was going to happen, the more she thought about it-so they didn't have to sleep on the damp and mildewed floor. He was perhaps the quietest of everyone there; he was on watch when Clint wasn't (apart from Vision, who took nights for obvious reasons) and he never talked to her. Not that she minded; she never talked to him. What were they supposed to talk about-how he'd almost killed her at least twice?

That conversation would die really fast.

Sam was still Sam-maybe he laughed a little less and his eyes looked a little warier, but he was mostly the same happy guy he'd always been. She honestly didn't know what they'd do without him-he kept everyone smiling and laughing and he could cheer anyone up, even after the worst nightmares. Everyone had them; nightly, Natasha was woken up by someone crying out in their sleep-and not because of a rat. Some were worse than others; they'd long since vowed not to judge each other. There was a strict don't-ask policy on the team; if people wanted to, they would volunteer information. Otherwise, there was no reason to ask about the contents of said nightmares.

She hadn't had any yet, but she figured it was just a matter of time. She just hoped that when she did have one she'd be able to successfully lock it down before it could wake up anyone else.

And then there was Steve. His smiles always looked sad and his eyes seemed permanently veiled, as though all those days of worrying about everybody were beginning to take their toll. It almost made her feel guilty about coming back, even though the rest of the team had been nothing but friendly to her and Steve constantly made her feel welcome: five people was bad enough, but then Vision had come and now here she was-with the others against her better judgment. And yet he never complained; instead, he devoted his every waking minute to making sure everyone was as happy as they could be given the circumstances. In fact, Natasha thought the only time he truly seemed at peace was when he was drawing in the evenings. He drew everything-Sam and Scott trading high school stories, Bucky staring out at the empty tracks a subway train would never run down again, Clint helping Wanda play through a particularly difficult piece on the guitar. Sometimes Natasha watched him draw, sitting next to him as his pencil gently brushed across the paper and left a small line of charcoal in its wake, creating pictures that seemed to spring to life off the page-or immortalize a moment with pen and ink..

In spite of everything they were still managing to hang on.

"Natasha, aren't you hungry?" Steve asked, sitting down next to her with a piece of pepperoni pizza dripping with grease.

She grinned and set her book aside, hoping there would still be pizza left. It was kind of a free for all when it came to food-though she didn't really care; the heat made it hard for her to be hungry anyway. "Yeah, sorry. I just lost track of time."

"That's easy to do down here. I'm trying to find ways we can get the others outside-they're going to get stir crazy if they're down here too long. I don't know about Bucky; he's still so well known-and there's nothing I can do for Vision short of making him wear a paper bag over his head. But if Scott gets a shave and Wanda cuts her hair…"

"It could work. No one really knows Scott that well; we wouldn't have to do much. In a city like this, no one's looking too closely." She noticed how he didn't say anything about himself.

"You'd need to help Wanda learn how to disguise that accent of hers-she's good at blending in, but when she starts talking, it's over."

"Hmm." She considered the problem for a second. "Maybe if we teach her basic sign language; if anyone asks she can pretend she's deaf. We could try getting her some colored contacts. People see what they want to see anyway; if she can give the illusion of being American, I doubt many people would call her out on it."

Steve nodded, moving his hand (the one without pizza) so it rested on her knee. "And what about you, Nat? Doing okay?"

"Of course. What can I say? I'm home." Home was where her family was; if the (majority) of her family was hiding in an underground subway station from Interpol, then she was too.

"Steve, I think I just saw that rat from last night!" Scott said, looking like he would have jumped onto a chair if there'd been one in reach. "It's _bigger_ than my forearm, actually." Wanda was on her feet instantly, looking repulsed.

Natasha sighed. "You'd better go see what he wants before he gets everyone else worked up."

Steve nodded. "Never a dull moment, is there?"

"Nope."

As he turned to leave, her phone rang with a text from Bruce. _All okay?_ She'd given him a brief description of their decidedly miserable surroundings the day before.

Her finger hovered over the send button a moment, looking around at the team. Everyone had things to work through, sure; but they had enough food and resources, they had company, and they hadn't gotten caught yet. By all accounts, they were in a pretty good place.

Things could definitely be worse.

She pushed the button. _All okay._

 **So, you know how some authors say that characters decide what they're going to do for themselves? Well, that's pretty much what happened here. I wasn't going to put Bruce into the story...but somehow he just showed up. So there you go.**

 **Spider Man will be in the next chapter. I know I don't typically 'tease' chapters, but I know it's been a little while since we've checked in with Peter.**

 **I think those are all the announcements for this chapter. Review, follow, and favorite! Thanks for reading!**


	12. Allies

**Sorry about the wait for the chapter. I'd give a good excuse but I don't really have any-just that I'm writing multiple stories at the same time. This chapter is on the long side to make up for it :) I should be updating again pretty soon (next chapter will be shorter) but I'm also going on vacation for my birthday so we'll see how that goes.**

 **I saw _Civil War_ for the fifth time a few days ago and it's still a great movie-although there's so many feels! **

**Last announcement: I know I don't usually ask for set numbers of reviews, follows, etc. before I next update but...this story is so close to 200 follows. Any chance we can hit the magic number this chapter? I'll still update regardless, but we're really close.**

 **Okay, I think that's everything. Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

Scott's birthday came around in mid July and all he said he wanted for a present was to be able to see the sunlight again-not the artificial light given off from the few gritty lights that swung lazily above the station platform but real sunshine. Not only that, but he wanted everyone else to be able to go outside too. It soon became apparent this would be a tall order to fulfill, but Steve decided to give it his best effort. He certainly didn't owe him-or the rest of them-anything less.

With their upcoming outing approaching, Steve and Natasha began thinking of ways the idea could actually be feasible. Scott, after much reluctance, allowed his head to be shaved and Natasha spent hours every night with Wanda teaching her a passable American accent.

Of course, there was still the matter of what to do about Vision. It stumped everyone. An outfit change wouldn't work; they couldn't exactly cut his hair or change his eye color; in fact, as the days passed more and more quickly as they led up to Scott's birthday they were forced to concede that perhaps it simply couldn't be done.

It was Vision himself who found a solution, quite inadvertently. "I believe Mr. Stark made a piece of tech that, when placed on exposed skin, can alter how the minds of others perceive you. If we could find this device, I believe it would allow me to go out into society unimpeded by some of my more...inhuman features."

Steve and Natasha exchanged a look. "Do you know where this technology is?" Natasha asked finally, after a minute of awkward silence in which everyone poked at their Chinese food and tried to pretend they had something better to do than listen in.

"No, but I'm sure I can find out-though Clint, I may need your assistance in...casting some nets."

Clint nodded and pulled out his laptop. "Sure. What do you need?" They drifted to the other side of the room, muttering in low voices so as not to disturb the others, Clint's fingers flying over the keyboard deftly. The others made polite small talk and commented once again on the oppressive heat, trying to give them what privacy they could in such tight quarters.

"I saw another rat last night." Scott said, spearing another piece of sesame chicken and nearly breaking one of the tongs off his plastic fork. "I swear to God it was longer than my arm."

"I don't think that's possible." Sam said dryly. "And I've seen some pretty big rats."

"Then you didn't see this one. That's probably why there aren't any alligators in the sewers; this rat just goes around and eats them all."

"That's disgusting." Wanda replied, trying out her new American accent. It was still a bit hesitant but it was improving quite nicely; Natasha gave a small nod of satisfaction.

"He's just lying." Sam insisted. "Scott probably just saw a mouse or something-and it was dark, so he blew it completely out of proportion. Superat doesn't exist, and even if he did he would be bent on world domination rather than eating alligators."

"You're such a killjoy, Sam Wilson." Scott replied. "You're the one that's lying-just like you lie about how I kicked your ass last summer."

"I wasn't prepared-"

"You're an Avenger. I thought you're always supposed to be prepared."

"Enough, guys." Steve said as it looked like the conversation was turning increasingly volatile-though still teasing enough; for now at least. "Anyone want fortune cookies?"

They had just finished reading-and subsequently laughing over-each other's fortunes when Clint and Vision rejoined the group, smiling broadly. "And we've got it." Clint said. "This mythical piece of Stark tech is currently residing inside the apartment of a fifteen year old high schooler named Peter Parker."

Steve nearly spit out the water he was drinking. "Peter Parker? As in Spider Man, in Leipzig?"

"As far as I can tell, yeah. Apparently Tony's been doing him a few favors now that the rest of us are gone."

"I can break in and steal it for you." Scott said. "I'm very good at being a cat burglar."

"Except that you got arrested-twice." Sam sniggered.

"No one is going to steal anything unless we don't have another choice." Steve replied. "What do you think, Clint? Can we go talk to this kid?"

Clint looked up in disbelief. "You want us to talk to him? No offense Cap, but he kind of sided with Tony Stark over us. How do you know he won't call the FBI?"

"He's a superhero too-and he knows that superheroes look out for each other. Besides, don't you think he'd call the cops if the tech got stolen from him? The rest of you don't all need to go-I can just go meet him and get the tech there. It's less dangerous that way."

"Well...apparently he gets home from school every day around 4:30 and his aunt doesn't get home from work until 5:30 except Wednesdays and Fridays when she gets off at noon. You might be able to go then-their apartment doesn't have the best security ever. I mean, it's not a good idea, but-"

"Thanks, Clint. I'll head out tomorrow."

~A~

Peter supposed he should have been used to superheroes showing up in his kitchen as soon as he got home from school.

Of course, he was still surprised when someone rang his doorbell just as he was flopping down on the couch with a slice of cold pizza. Reluctantly he walked over and opened the door-revealing a tall man, well built, with dark blond hair and blue eyes. "It's Peter Parker, right?"

"Yeah. Who are you?" The man seemed familiar in a way he couldn't quite place. "Hey, have we met before?"

"Yes, we have-although we both looked very different then." He held out a firm hand for Peter to shake. "Steve Rogers."

"Steve Rogers-like Captain America? Wow." That stopped him cold. Ever since the Battle of New York, Captain America had been one of his favorite superheroes-well, him and everyone else on the planet of course. And now, of course, he knew why he'd been struck with such a weird feeling as soon as he'd opened the door. "Uh...come in, sir. It's a pleasure to meet you while we're not on opposite sides. Thank you for everything you've done for our country." God, he sounded like his aunt. "Sorry. I'm just nervous."

"Hey, it's no problem." Steve replied easily, taking the chair across from the couch. "Sorry to barge in like this, but I couldn't exactly call ahead."

"Yeah. You're on the run, right?" It had been all over the news: the ex Avengers had escaped and Steve was their new leader. Peter could only imagine how much of a risk he was taking just by being here.

"Yes we are. In fact, that's part of the reason I'm here."

"Mr. Rogers, I'd love to help you, really, but...I can't do anything illegal. Sorry."

Steve laughed. "I promise I won't ask you to do anything that's even questionable. I'd just like you to give me something you got from Mr. Stark-a piece of technology that allows the wearer to change their appearance."

"Oh." He knew exactly what he was talking about-the little disc. He hadn't had a reason to use it on a mission yet but he always brought it with him just in case. "Can I ask why?"

"It's to help a friend of mine. He can't exactly be as inconspicuous as you or I can."

"You're talking about Vision, right?"

"Yes, I am. He hasn't been able to come out of hiding for two weeks. Let's face it: it's hard to be inconspicuous when you're made of metal."

"Yeah, that's hard. Um...let me get it." You couldn't just refuse Captain America. That was just something you didn't do. So he went to his bedroom and returned with the disc, tossing it easily from hand to hand. "Here you go."

"Thanks, Peter. I really appreciate this-and I owe you one. I'll give it back when I'm done with it-"

"No, don't worry about it. He probably needs it more than I do." After all, he could just wear a new sweatshirt. Vision...probably couldn't. "And...I don't not like you. I mean, I know I sided with Stark in Germany but-"

"He got to you first. I get it-and Tony Stark is a great guy. You should be proud to fight for him. I've heard a little about you, Peter-and the things you manage to accomplish despite the fact that you're only in high school. Any superhero team would be more than proud to have you. And...sometimes you have to fight for what you think is right-even if it's not easy and even if it's not popular. I wouldn't want to tell anyone what to believe or how to act-that's not my way, and I don't think it's your way either. I look forward to meeting you again sometime in the future-hopefully you'll be a little bit older the next time you're called to a fight though." They shook hands and Steve stood to leave, examining the tech carefully. "This really is a useful invention; I'm sure Tony will make you another one if you ask nicely."

Peter felt like he was glowing. He wasn't used to superheroes paying attention to him-certainly not Captain America. "Yeah, maybe. See you later, Captain America."

"Just call me Steve, kid." With that he left-leaving Peter standing in the center of the living room and wondering what the hell had just happened. Briefly, he realized that he'd just given Steve a very important present from Tony Stark-and he also realized that he really didn't care. He needed it more than I do.

He shook his head and went back to his pizza and his football. Strange days on planet Earth indeed.

~A~

Scott's birthday dawned bright and sunny, without a single cloud in the sky. The temperature was perfect-warm, but not hot; perfect for a day of sightseeing. Everyone was up early, excitedly performing the last minute preparations-the contacts, the clothing changes, the last few hasty run throughs with new accents. Vision's disguise was a smashing success; by simply placing the small piece of plastic on the base of his neck, he was able to transform from his usual android self to a tall man with jet black hair and thoughtful blue eyes who wouldn't have looked out of place on the cover of one of the airbrushed beauty catalogues Wanda was so used to seeing in the checkout aisles at grocery stores. By the time the sun rose they were outside, relishing in the fresh air on their skin for the first time in weeks-Scott looked like he was going to cry, new Mets baseball cap pulled down low across his face in case anyone was observant enough to look past the buzz cut.

Wanda didn't think the city had ever looked so beautiful; it was even more wonderful than the first time she'd seen it in her first steps off the helicarrier a year ago. It was a city of movers and shakers, of new ideas and old fancies, and-ridiculous as it seemed-it was her home too.

The day was sheer perfection-they walked Fifth Avenue in the morning, stopping in whatever stores caught their fancy to take even more money off of Tony's extravagant bank account; strolled in Central Park for a while before it got too sunny-everyone rode the carousel twice, even Natasha, who'd stated again and again that she wouldn't get within a ten mile radius of the thing but changed her mind when it was actually time for Steve to buy the tickets-attended a (super quick) mass at St. Patrick's Cathedral per Steve's request, and ate dinner at an extremely fancy restaurant Scott had picked out (because he had money to blow for apparently the first time in his life) weighed down with their shopping bags and seemingly incapable of stopping themselves from laughing. Every little thing seemed funny-Sam's offhanded comment that the tiramisu Scott ordered for dessert seemed just the slightest bit lopsided and the video Clint found online of cats getting brain freeze. She supposed it was just the simple joys of being alive-and, for one day at least, not worrying about how they would survive the next day without either being arrested or going completely insane from lack of fresh air.

Hesitantly, she reached up and touched her hair-which had been twisted into a neat updo by Natasha because apparently no one in the entire world had seen Wanda Maximoff with her hair up-or with blue contacts. She kept thinking it was going to fall out but apparently the hair spray the ex assassin had used was industrial strength; her hair wasn't going anywhere.

"You look very nice today, Wanda." Vision said as they strolled down Fifth Avenue on their way home. The sun had just gone down and she imagined the stars coming out among the smog; shining down on Lila, Cooper, Nathaniel, and Cassie perhaps-far away from the prying eyes of the United Nations and anyone else who wanted to hurt them.

She couldn't help blushing, even as her hands went back to her sides. "That's very sweet, but I really don't think-"

She was spared from having to answer further because Sam interrupted with a "There's a grocery store over there. We could go see if they have anything for tomorrow morning." This was a reasonable enough suggestion; everyone was craving doughnuts.

Of course, as soon as everyone saw the abundance of foods available for purchase all bets were off. Scott threw three bags of potato chips in the back of the cart, Natasha grabbed a watermelon (because apparently someone had to be thinking healthy), and Bucky and Sam argued over which box of cookies they should pick up in the bakery section.

"Anything you want?" Steve asked Wanda, glancing with mild amusement at their rapidly filling cart. "As long as it doesn't need to be heated up or kept cold, that is."

"I'll get cereals." She knew everyone's favorites by now; she hurried off to pick them out while Steve went to break up the dessert battle.

The row of brightly colored boxes covered almost an entire wall of shelving and she couldn't help smiling as she looked at all the choices: Cheerios and its many various subsidies, Special K, Lucky Charms, and dozens of other cereals she'd never heard of before but were likely filled with sugar. She grabbed a couple of boxes of Cheerios for the majority and something called Cookie Crisps for Sam and Scott, who liked to experiment-and then grabbed one more Cheerio box, just in case. She couldn't remember a time she'd been happier; certainly not since they'd come back to the city, certainly, but it just felt nice to be able to stand in the middle of the grocery store covered in fluorescent lighting and not have to worry about being caught, arrested, or recognized. It was a small thing to be sure, but no less welcome.

She barely saw a blur of white out of the corner of her eye before something crashed into her and they both went sprawling. It took all of the control she had not to send her powers lashing out to catch herself; as it was, she hit the tile rather hard and all of the cereal boxes went flying.

"I'm so sorry!" the girl who had collided with her said, rushing to pick up assorted boxes of Cheerios. As she talked, Wanda took the opportunity to look her over: she was younger than she'd anticipated, around fifteen or sixteen; she had dark blonde hair that fell well past her shoulders and eyes that couldn't seem to decide whether they wanted to be blue or green. She wore an all white-white skirt, white shirt, and white jacket. "I wasn't looking where I was going, I didn't even see you there-"

"It's all right." Wanda replied, standing up gently to ensure nothing was broken. Sam would get a good laugh out of that one-breaking an arm because I fell on grocery store tile. "Don't worry about it."

"Here you go." She handed over the rest of the cereal boxes with an apologetic smile-and suddenly her eyes seemed to widen. Wanda tried not to curse; she didn't know how or why, but somehow this girl knew who she was-and the last thing she needed was a scene. She shook her head, hoping the girl would understand-and, thank God, she did. She didn't say anything else, but she didn't leave either; she simply stood there, waiting.

"Can we talk later?" Wanda asked quietly, taking her time counting the cereal boxes for any watching security cameras. No doubt the girl wanted some kind of autograph; if she just rushed off without saying anything, there was more of a chance that she would tell her friends about what she'd seen-and the Avengers couldn't have that.

"Sure. How long?" The girl pretended to be involved in comparing different oatmeal brands and didn't even look at her at all, though excitement radiated off of her in almost palpable waves. She was good, Wanda would give her that.

"Fifteen minutes. There's a green bench two blocks down. I'll give you an autograph, or whatever it is you're after. Just please...don't tell anyone. Don't text, don't call, don't do anything. Just go out there and wait." The girl nodded and left, barely a white shadow as she headed to the checkout counter to unload the contents of a small reusable grocery bag Wanda hadn't noticed before. Shit. Steve was going to kill her. Everyone was going to kill her.

She dragged her feet slightly as she returned to the group and put the cereal boxes in the cart, trying to act like everything was normal. Of course, Steve saw right through her act. "What's wrong?"

"There was a...teenager a couple of aisles over. She recognized me and I told her I'd give her an autograph if she waited outside."

Steve grimaced. "That's dangerous-"

"I know, but I just felt bad for turning her away and by the time my rational brain kicked in it was too late." For all she knew, their location was all over Snapchat by now and the police were on their way. The fact that she'd even been recognized at all was surprising; usually Steve was the one who got all the admirers. In fact, Wanda didn't think she could ever remember a time she'd gotten stopped on the streets because someone wanted to thank her for saving the world-the way others were, constantly. "I gave her fifteen minutes."

He sighed. "Think you can trust her to keep her silence?"

"I don't know. She didn't say anything or make a scene...it'll be quick, two minutes tops."

"All right-but hurry back. We'll be checking out if you need us and make sure you swear her to silence." She nodded and turned to leave, heart practically thudding in the region of her throat as she found the green bench-two blocks down, just as she'd said.

The girl was already there, reading a book, though she perked up right away when Wanda sat down next to her. "You're Scarlet Witch." It definitely was not a question.

She sighed. "Yes, I am. And I'd be extremely grateful if you'd keep it just between the two of us." The girl nodded quickly. "I assume you want an autograph? I can't exactly take pictures…"

"Yeah, okay." She rummaged around in her bag and pulled out a small white notebook, which she opened to a blank page and handed across along with a black pen from Disney World, according to the words printed on its side.

"Who should I make it out to?"

"Lydia, if that's okay. Lydia Steinwell."

"I'm guessing that's your name?" She started to write, doing what Steve did when he signed autographs-keep people talking, make the conversation last so the experience felt more real to the fans and left them with more of a lasting impression.

"Yeah. I'm a huge fan of the Avengers. I was eleven during the Battle of New York and I was in that bank the Chitauri tried to invade. Captain America saved me...and I guess I've always wanted the chance to thank him."

"I'll tell him you said hello." She finished the autograph and slid it back across the bench. "I really do owe you for keeping quiet back there. Most of the other fans I've met would have either screamed or fainted-or done both."

"No problem." Lydia's smile was surprisingly pretty-it seemed to transform her entire face, from one that seemed to have a perpetual air of anxiety to it to a girl who looked absolutely carefree and happy. "I can keep secrets. You're on the run, aren't you?" She didn't bother waiting for Wanda's answer. "It's been all over the news. The Secretary of State makes all of these speeches about how dangerous you are and if anyone sees you they should call the police right away...but I don't think that's true. Maybe the Accords are necessary, maybe they aren't-but no one deserves to be treated like that, especially not superheroes."

She kept talking, which was probably a good thing because Wanda had absolutely no idea what she was going to say next. "You're my favorite Avenger." The words came out in a rush, as though she had to force them out before she could think better of it.

I shouldn't be. God knows there are so many people on the team who are better than I am. "That's nice of you to say. Thank you."

More words. "I think the things you can do are amazing. I mean, Captain America and Ironman are great-but all of their powers come from suits and serums. So does everyone's, really-except yours. Being a hero doesn't make you have them, but you chose to be a hero because you do. That's amazing-and I just want you to know that. No one else can do what you can do. And...I've noticed how you don't talk a lot after missions, when you all get interviewed. Even when you're on those late night television shows, you let other team members take the questions and claim the credit. You're modest, but I think you're also shy, a little bit-like me." She broke off quickly, eyes flicking from her face down to the street in front of them. "Sorry. I've been thinking about what I would say if I ever got to meet you for a year now-I guess I didn't practice enough." She stood up to leave, as if suddenly embarrassed. "I know you guys are on the run at all-don't worry, I won't tell-but if you ever need anything…" She ripped a piece of paper out of the back of her notebook and scribbled a phone number down onto it, shoving it into Wanda's hand before she took off down the darkening sidewalk, white jacket flapping behind her as she ran down one block, two, and then took a sharp right.

Only then did it occur to Wanda to wonder whether or not to wonder whether she was hot in a jacket like that on such a hot day.

For a moment she was seized with such a powerful urge to call out to the girl and call her back that it was all she could do not to open her mouth. The words raced through her mind over and over, set on some endless loop she couldn't seem to break. No one else can do what you can do. That's amazing...you chose to be a hero because you do...The girl-Lydia-hadn't been frightened, hadn't been curious. She hadn't said those things because she had to-and she hadn't tried to take them back immediately afterwards.

She...liked her-more than Captain America, with his star spangled shield; or Ironman, with his thousands of gadgets; or Natasha, with her almost superhuman speed and agility. No one deserves to be treated like that, especially not superheroes…Wanda stood up hastily and took a few quick steps backwards, until she nearly fell into the window of the closed bookstore behind her. No one deserves that, especially not superheroes. Steve and Clint had told her that of course, but she'd assumed the rest of the world didn't see things that way. She'd figured they hated the Avengers for what happened in Lagos-just like the news crews and the politicians that had visited the Avengers base for days after the accident with their fancy video cameras and stinging accusations. No one deserves to be treated like that. No one.

She never thought they still had allies. She certainly never thought she would have any allies. She was a monster. She thought everyone could see that.

"Wanda, are you all right?" Vision had come up beside her and she hadn't realized it. Of course she hadn't; he often surprised her at the best of times and she certainly wasn't on high alert right now-not when a few single sentences were working so effectively to break down the walls she'd constructed around herself ever since Lagos. And even before that-ever since she'd signed up for those experiments when she didn't even know what HYDRA was; only that she was hungry, tired, and ready to make a change in the world around her. .

"I'm fine." she replied, wishing her voice would stop shaking. "I just...I want to go back now."

He nodded and gently took her hand; he still looked so strange, with his dark hair and pale skin. He certainly didn't look like the android she was accustomed to seeing-and yet, his eyes were still his own. They'd lost their metallic sheen, but they still held his kind intelligence. "I will...text Captain Rogers and we can leave right now."

They didn't talk for the entire walk back, through quiet back roads and tiny alleyways between towering buildings. They passed buildings covered in darkness and windows rimmed with warm yellow light; children playing on sidewalks and dog walkers passing through Central Park who didn't stop to give them a second glance. Vision didn't ask questions or chastise her for slipping up, for perhaps making a fatal error in trusting a girl who reminded her too much of herself not to betray their secret. He didn't try to comfort her even when they reached the subway platform, she went to the far edge nearest the tracks (the best spot one could go when they wanted to be alone) and stared into space quietly, Lydia's phone number still clenched in her hand tightly.

Experimentation...Pietro...the way people used to look at her in the streets in the weeks immediately following the Battle of Sokovia, like she was both someone to be revered and someone to be feared...the Raft, the cell, the jacket, the collar, the hopelessness, the feeling that she was losing her mind and there was no one there to stop it...the fear, always the fear, and regret that seemed to permeate everything she did...a million tiny hurts and faults in the armor she'd made for herself, dozens of memories she'd shoved in the figurative closet, all in the open, all undone.

She didn't know how he realized how to help her; he was an android, after all. There was no blood in his veins or skin on his body, especially once he removed Peter's tech and he was back to his normal self. And yet he held her gently until she finally managed to compose herself again, at which point he said simply "It's all right." Nothing fancy, nothing special. Just hard reassurance.

"I know." she replied, wiping away the last few tears with the back of her hand. And she did know it, really. It would just take her a long time to accept it-to accept herself, really. She wasn't there yet. She wouldn't be there for a long time.

But as she sat there, in the dark and the oppressive heat of the underground room, with Vision's arm around her shoulders and his other hand carefully holding one of hers, she began to wonder if one day she might be.

~A~

The next day she called the number on the little piece of paper. The paper itself was so ripped and tear stained it was a wonder the words were even still legible; she had to rewrite the number again twice in black pen to be sure she had it right.

She told Steve; not much, certainly not about what had happened the night before, but enough to convince him that Lydia was a friend-otherwise, they would be all over social media and very possibly under arrest. When he approved it she hopped off the platform and walked a ways into the tunnel so she wouldn't be heard-like Natasha did when she talked to Bruce or Clint and Scott when they talked to their families-and dialled Lydia's number.

Lydia picked up on the third ring. "Hi, who's this?"

"This is Wanda Maximoff. If it's all right, I'd like to ask you for a favor-and I also want to say thank you."

She hesitated for only a second; it was obvious she hadn't been expecting a call back. "Sure. What do you need?"

It took them thirty minutes to work out a date and finalize plans, but eventually they were able to make it work. Wanda was smiling when she climbed back onto the platform and stole a potato chip from Sam's bag. "We're going on a short vacation in three days."

Bucky looked up from his newest book-Stephen King; he couldn't seem to get enough of the genre-curiously. "What do you mean?"

"We're going to spend the night somewhere different. It's nearby, but it's not in this underground hell. And it's a safe place too; we're staying with someone trustworthy." She pulled out a book of her own before she could get swamped with questions. Yes, it was a leap of faith-but she knew she was going to go crazy if she didn't get out more. And for once, this was a leap of faith she was willing to make.

~A~

They took everything they could fit in their backpacks and left everything else back on the platform-several pizzas, a few (covered) platters of sesame chicken, and enough books to fill a small library. It was obvious Natasha and Bucky were still wary about the idea, but Steve and Vision had vouched for her, Clint was hesitantly on board, and Scott and Sam were willing to do whatever they could to spend another day outside. Lydia lived nearby, in an apartment a few streets down-not a very nice apartment, by the looks of the graffiti on the walls that dated back to at least the eighties.

Even though she'd been expecting them, the look on her face was still priceless when she opened the door and saw them all clustered in the slightly seedy looking hallway. "You're just in time." she said, recovering quickly. "Mom just left for work; she's pulling the night shift so she won't be back until ten or eleven tomorrow morning at the earliest. I think she said she might crash at her boyfriend's place, so we should have the apartment to ourselves." She bit her lip. "It's not much, but-"

"I'm sure it'll be just fine." Steve said, smiling to put her at ease. It seemed to work-slightly. "So you're Wanda's friend, right? Lydia Steinwell?"

"Yeah." she said, smiling hesitantly. "I...know all of your names. It's kind of hard not to. Would you like to come inside?" They passed through a dark entryway that was deserted except for a couple of coats hanging on wooden pegs and a couple pairs of flats that had been thrown haphazardly into one corner into a living area that had seen better days: the television set was barely bigger than the plain wooden table it sat on and the chairs scattered around the room were slightly threadbare-as though they had given up a long time ago. "So you're welcome to go anywhere on this floor. Bathrooms are down the hall and to the right. Mom and I have our bedrooms upstairs. There's food in the kitchen-I have something to do now, but as soon as I'm done I'll see what there is to cook-and blankets and pillows in the cabinet. It's not very extravagant but the AC works perfectly and I don't think the police will try and look for you here." Her smile was genuine as she went down the hallway; Wanda could hear her soft footsteps on the stairs a few seconds later, along with the soft strains of some kind of music she couldn't quite place.

"Wanda, how old is this kid?" Sam asked as he flopped down on the faded floral couch on one side of the room. "I'll buy that she won't sell us out if she hasn't sold us out already-but seriously."

"I've done a little bit of research." Natasha replied, fingers flying over the touch screen of her phone. "Lydia Theresa Steinwell-just turned fifteen a couple of weeks ago. Going to be a sophomore next year. Good grades; likes writing, isn't very social, lives with her single mother, works at a coffee shop downtown part time on the weekends to bring in coffee money. She seems harmless-though that doesn't mean we shouldn't still be on our guard." Bucky nodded to her in a show of grudging respect for her researching abilities.

"Hey, anywhere that has free wifi is good enough for me." Scott said, booting up his computer. "Wanda, can you go ask her what the password is?"

"Sure. Are the rest of you going to be okay down here while I'm gone?" After a quick mutter of assent-everyone else was already absorbed with the first real TV they'd seen since they'd left the cabin-Wanda found the staircase Lydia had pointed out and went upstairs. The upstairs hallway was also dim and dark, with spots of mildew here and there-though the worst of the stains had been covered by impressionist paintings and photographs of flowers. There were three doors, two of which were closed and the other one leading to a bathroom. She chose to knock on the door with the light on underneath it and the same strange music still flowing through the thin wood. "Lydia?"

The music stopped. "Come in."

Wanda opened the door and tried not to raise an eyebrow at how everything in the room seemed to scream 'teenage girl'. The small bed in one corner of the room, covered in white blankets, where Lydia sat with a laptop and a headset, seemed to be the only thing in the room that wasn't advertising something. The bookshelves were spilling over with books; they'd been stacked in rows and even stacked on top of each other when even that had run out of space. But what really drew her eye was the fact that the closet and nearly the entire wall next to it were covered in posters. She skimmed over them quickly: Star Wars, a few pictures of the team that seemed to have been cut out from various magazines and press interviews, and at least eight from Game of Thrones. And those were just the shows she recognized.

Lydia grinned sheepishly as she shut her laptop. "Sorry about the mess."

"Obsessed much?"

"It's just Game of Thrones at the moment-season six only finished a couple of months ago."

"I know. We missed the finale because there was a rainstorm where we were on the run and the TV cut out. We were all upset of course, but Scott wouldn't stop complaining. It seems like you're a little more than a casual fan though." She gestured to the posters.

Lydia laughed. "Oh, that? That's what happens when you buy a poster book on sale for ten dollars at Barnes and Noble. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but I started running out of places to put them. What can I say? I like dragons."

"There's worse things to be into. Scott would like to know the wifi password."

"Oh, right. Sorry." Another piece torn out of the notebook, another scribbled word. "At least, I think that's it. The Masons down the hall like to try and hack our account, so Mom changes it every week. If it doesn't work, I can try some other things too-I keep a list."

"And you're sure she won't mind the fact that eight strangers are spending the night in her living room?"

"She has other things to worry about-and as long as you don't make a mess, she'll never know. Ever since she started pulling double shifts at the hospital she's been a lot less observant." The statement was casual, even flippant, but Wanda could sense the underlying stress. It stopped her from leaving right away, wondering why this girl who only knew about the Avengers from the news would be willing to risk everything to help them. "We make ends meet, but there's not a whole lot of money left over."

"Is your dad here?"

She shrugged. "He's off in Bali with his new wife. Usually I spend the summers with him but...we got into an argument a few weeks before school got out and I decided not to. He's probably happier without me anyway." She ran a hand over her laptop cover almost protectively. "It's better that he's gone. When he was here, all my parents did was fight. But you don't want to hear about that."

"Why not? You're just as interesting as any of us."

Her laugh was dry, sarcastic, even a little self deprecating. "Right, because I'm interesting. All I do is work my way through school and live for the weekend. I write, I read, and I spend all my spare money at the movie theatre. That's all. Nothing impressive. I've never even been out of the country."

"Neither had I, until Sokovia fell out of the sky."

Her smile disappeared. "I'm sorry. That must have been terrible."

This time it was Wanda's turn to shrug. "It wasn't surprising. Sokovia had been going downhill for a long time." She looked around the room; just barely bigger than a walk in closet. "I lived in an apartment like this one for a few years, you know-although I was too young to really care about movies or TV shows. I'm sure my wall would have been covered with things too, though I think it would be all Harry Potter. Some Star Wars too, actually. And you're right; dragons are cool."

Lydia nodded and cleared her throat. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure. What's on your mind?"

"Are you dating Vision?"

She almost laughed. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know-you just kind of act like a couple. You act protective of each other-and I'd be willing to bet you don't even realize you're doing it." She grinned, as if proud to be figuring out something no one else had.

"Perhaps we are. How do you know? Have you ever dated someone before?"

"No. Not yet, at least." She wouldn't look up from her closed computer lid. "I'm very...introverted. I get shy."

"You'll grow out of that-and when you find the right people, it won't matter. I'm not saying it'll be easy, or that it will happen instantly but the people who complete your life-who love you for who you truly are, whether as your significant other or simply a dear friend-always end up finding you."

"That's what everyone says."

"That's because it's true. At least, that's how it happened for me-and I was much the same way. You just need to be willing to take leaps of faith sometimes and hope they lead you somewhere worthwhile." She saw a life she could have lived, if things had been different-a life of books and movies, dreams and imagination. "Like I have to trust that you won't tell the police we're here."

She finally managed to coax a grin out of her. "Even if I did, they wouldn't believe me. Don't worry-your secret is safe with me. And...thanks. You know, for the autograph." And for something else too, something that Lydia couldn't quite name but Wanda thought she could: understanding. Reassurance that one day others would understand too.

"I'm the one that should be thanking you for getting us out of that hellhole. You know, before I met you a few days ago I hadn't been outside in days? Natasha and Steve think that my accent is too identifiable. They've been trying to teach me sign language."

"They sound very resourceful."

"They are-you'll like them. Now, are you going to stay up here all night or are you going to come downstairs and watch TV with the rest of us? I think Scott is more than ready to watch that finale."

Lydia grinned and replugged her computer. "Sounds great. I'm pretty sure there's some popcorn in the cabinet, if I can find it…"

~A~

They stayed up until ungodly hours, watching whatever they could find on HBO and raiding the refrigerator at regular intervals. Wanda couldn't remember having such a good time in weeks.

Finally, around two o'clock Steve insisted they call it a night. Blankets and pillows from the linen closet were distributed, remnants of pizza, popcorn, chips, and chocolate were cleaned up as best they could, and Lydia went back upstairs after promising to make pancakes for breakfast the next morning. This followed a period of indiscriminate shifting to make sure everyone had enough room to sleep as they were on the den's weak carpeting and even spilling into a small office. It took a while but finally everyone was (mostly) comfortable. No one complained; the AC worked and they didn't have to worry about rats-Wanda was more than satisfied.

"That was fun." Sam said, yawning as he adjusted the thin sheet he was using as a covering.

"You just kicked me in the face." Scott muttered.

"Sorry, Tic Tac."

"You did it again. And I'm pretty sure that last time wasn't an accident."

Wanda tried not to laugh. Living in a state of the art mansion was nice and all, but she felt like she'd gotten to know her teammates more in the past two months than she ever had at the base. They were a family instead of a team-and sure, their freedoms were constantly in danger, but they were still together.

And no matter what happened next, she knew she would always have them.

~A~

The next morning everyone got up around eight-with a lot of complaining about how it was too early-and Lydia made nearly an entire box of pancakes, pulling out chocolate chips, sprinkles, and four canisters of whipped cream. Scott had the bright idea to make a face on his pancake with chocolate chips for eyes, whipped cream for a nose, eyebrows, and hair, and sprinkles for a smile. Everyone got into it-even Natasha, who just rolled her eyes even as she put the finishing touches on her creation.

"I have no idea why we're so respected." Sam told Lydia as he licked whipped cream off his fingertips. "We're basically just children who never bothered to grow up."

All too soon it was time to leave-Steve was determined to be gone as soon as possible so Lydia wouldn't get in trouble with the police if word ever got around that they were spotted in the vicinity. There was a mad scramble to repack overnight bags and get ready in the apartment's two small bathrooms, clean up the kitchen and den (somehow whipped cream had gotten on the ceiling; Wanda had no idea how that happened-and neither, it seemed, did anyone else-but their first priority immediately became to take it down.

And then it was time for goodbyes.

"Thanks for the AC." Scott said, shaking Lydia's hand as he slung his bag over one shoulder and pulled on his shoes at the same time. "You make some killer pancakes."

"Thanks for the house. The AC is just an added bonus." Sam said, shooting Scott a look. "Although the pancakes were really good, I'm not going to lie. Stay in touch, okay?"

The farewells were more of the same until it came to Steve. "Thank you so much for your hospitality." he said, digging out his wallet and pressing a handful of hundred dollar bills into her hand. "Take that as our tip."

Lydia's jaw dropped and she immediately tried to hand the money back. "It was my pleasure. You don't need to-"

"I know, but I want to. It's just a little something-put it in your college fund, use it to buy books, whatever you want to do-but I will feel extremely offended if you don't take it."

She looked at him for a second as if trying to gauge whether or not he was joking, but finally she slid the money into her jeans pocket. "All right then. Thank you, Mr. Rogers."

They shook hands. "Call me Steve." Apart from Wanda, he was the last person out; he glanced at her once as if to say Don't take too long before he joined the others in the hallway.

"Stay in touch, okay?" Wanda asked, riffling through her bag one last time to make sure she hadn't left anything behind. "I want to hear how sophomore year goes."

Lydia grinned, wiping up a spare piece of whipped cream they'd somehow managed to overlook. "Don't worry. I will. And who knows-maybe it will be better."

"Do you know a kid named Peter Parker?"

She thought for a moment then shook her head. "Not that I know of. Why?"

"I think you'd like him. I'll text you his number." She closed her bag with a snap. "Well, I think that's everything. Thank you so much for having us over."

"It was my pleasure. You're reasonably good house guests."

She laughed. Steve will like that. "Good. Hang in there, okay? Things will get better-they always do."

"I'd say the same to you." Although Wanda's problems were very different from worrying about her next test grade and wondering who she would sit with at lunch. "See you later, Wanda."

"See you later, Lydia." With that, she left-and the door shut behind her. Her last glimpse she caught of Lydia was of a girl who looked almost radiant with happiness-a far cry from the girl in the grocery store a few nights before. She was very pretty when she smiled; and it still amazed Wanda that she had the power, just because of who she was and where she'd been, to help her at least in some small way. She'll turn out just fine. She'll do something with her life-I wouldn't be surprised if one day she's more famous than we are.

Maybe, just maybe, she wasn't useless after all. Maybe there were still ways for her to make up for the people she'd killed in Lagos and the lives she'd destroyed in Sokovia-one person at a time. She could only hope at least.

She didn't protest as Vision took her hand and they walked down the hall, emerging into the bright morning sunlight feeling distinctly renewed.

 **Next chapter will go back to Tony.**

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